


Pecking Order

by OptimisticEmotion



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman Incorporated (Comics)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age Swap, Age-Reversal, Alternate Universe, Baby Brother Dick, Family Dynamics, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Nerd Jason, Non-Linear Narrative, Reverse robin, big brother damian, unhinged Tim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2020-12-21 11:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 80,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OptimisticEmotion/pseuds/OptimisticEmotion
Summary: "I don't think that he'll appreciate being called just to help with Richard's schoolwork," Damian, the eldest started to argue."Nonsense," Bruce waved him off as he pulled out his cell phone."Wait, you're not about to call who I think you're about to call, are you?" Jason asked excitedly."Who?" Dick asked. He had lived with this family for three years now and still felt lost a lot of the time."Timmy!" Jason called back at him."I'll be right back," Bruce said as he began back down the hall, phone held to his ear. Damian snatched the paper off the desk and got comfortable on the bed. Jason and Dick both shared a knowing look. Damian always hated it when he lost to Tim. The eldest two were merciless to each other as they fought in a war that no one quite understood. . .---Reverse Robin AU. Set of stories where Damian was first and Dick is the youngest. Tim is the unhinged brother and Jason's the nerd! Yet, they're the same Batboys that we love.





	1. Bonding With Homework

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, AO3 Readers!!!! This is a series I had put up on Fanfiction years ago and have kept up inconsistently since (as per my usual, . . .) It actually got a bit more popular there than I thought it would and figured I'd put a version of it here as well. To keep it fresh on the site, I'll be uploading chapters in increments, however if you'd like to read all 20 current chapters, I have the same user name over on FFN and this fic is under the same title there as well. Just be warned, it's on a scheduled hiatus right now that is not due to end until Feb 2, 2020.
> 
> Otherwise,  
Enjoy!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick needs help with his English homework.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Dick-11 Jason-16 Tim-18 Damian-24

Chapter One: Bonding With Homework  
___

Dick glared at his English homework as if it was a personal insult to his heritage. He didn't know how the heck he was supposed to 'diagram a sentence'! As far as he was concerned sentences were for speaking, listening to, or reading. You want to diagram something then go to math or science! But despite his personal beliefs and very strong opinions on the matter, he still had to finish his homework. Grumbling under his breath Dick slammed his head to his desk.

"Whoa there, Dickie, you don't want to rattle your brains too hard," Dick's older brother Jason called from his doorway. That's right! Jason! He loved to read, and if Dick remembered right, he said that English Lit was his favorite subject in school!

"Jason! I need help!" Dick cried out, looking to the book buff of the family.

"Want me to get Damian for you?" Jason offered. Dick thought about their eldest brother. He and Damian were getting along better these days, in fact, everyone in the family swore Dami favored him. But he still felt that he had a long way to go before he was at 'ask the eldest for help' stage in their relationship just yet.

"No, it's English anyway so you're probably a better person to ask." Jason's brow shot up at that statement before he eased into a smug, proud stance, it wasn't often that he was the best fit when it came to helping with homework.

"Alright, Baby Bro, what do you need help with?" Jason asked as he walked in with a swagger. He sat at the end of Dick's bed as he faced the boy sitting at the desk.

"I can't figure out how to diagram a sentence," Dick pouted and showed the paper to the teen. Jason looked shocked and then confused before taking the page and looking it over.

"What the hell kinda of crap are they teaching you kids now a days?" Jason asked in disgust as he tried to make sense of the piece of paper in his hands

"So you never had to do this?" Dick asked incredulously.

"Well, in my defense I was still on the street until I was fourteen and since I read at a college grade level and tested well they just put me with the other fourteen-year-olds in ninth. You're still in sixth grade, aren't you?" Jason reasoned. Dick sighed and glared at the paper. If only he could have just skipped over third through sixth grade!

"So you can't help me?" Dick asked with a glower as he took his paper back from Jason. His older brother looked at the floor in shame before he suddenly looked back up at the paper with a glare of his own.

"Well, let's work on it together and see if we can figure it out!" Jason decided and moved to sit on his knees by Dick at the desk. The two worked to try and decode the homework for the next hour or so, neither quite figuring it out. At some point, they seemed to have attracted an audience as they heard a sharp clearing of a throat from the doorway. Both boys looked up to see Damian balancing a tray with one hand, on it two mugs and a plate of sandwiches.

"Pennyworth suggested I feed you cretins." The bite in Damian's words had long since lost its sting, and according to Tim, neither of the younger brothers ever got to feel it at its full force. Either way, if it wasn't for the fact that Damian seemed in a moderately good mood, Dick might have actually taken him seriously and felt hurt. Jason just laughed him off.

"Hey, thanks Dam! By the way, think you could help us with something? This was before my time in the educational pin and Dick's not having much better luck with it." As Jason spoke, he also moved to relieve Damian of the full tray. That's when he saw that while one mug was full of milk, for Dick, the other was full of Earl Gray, for him. God Bless Alfred! Damian's attention, however, was already on the paper that Dick held in his hands. The look on Damian's face made both of the younger brother's flinch. The eldest of Bruce's sons was glaring with a full rage that had Jason about to take back asking for help.

"Of course, this. I remember this." The way Damian spoke it was almost as if he were having flashbacks of fighting a terrible villain. Then again, it was Gotham, who knows what kind of crazies there were when Bruce had just started going out as Batman?

"So you know how to do it?" Dick asked hopefully.

"No." Damian's voice was full of venom and disdain, "But I will not allow it to concur me a second time!" The young man then took Jason's old spot next to Dick and began going over the instructions and trying to apply them logically to the problems. Jason and Dick shared a look and shrugged. They started on their dinner while they silently worked on the homework next to their eldest brother.

"May I ask what has all three of you so captivated?" Bruce's voice asked from the doorway. Dick had to wonder if maybe he should just close it, but he really did need help with his homework and his two older brothers weren't being much of an aid. They were just too stumped themselves and too stubborn to just give up.

"Bruce do you know how to diagram a sentence?" Dick asked. Jason and Damian looked up to their father as the man seemed to contemplate the question.

"Honestly I don't really remember how. It never really came up after grade school," Bruce confessed. "But I know someone who once told me he found it fun." Damian's eyes narrowed.

"I don't think that he'll appreciate being called just to help with Richard's schoolwork," the eldest started to argue.

"Nonsense," Bruce waved him off as he pulled out his cell phone.

"Wait, you're not about to call who I think you're about to call, are you?" Jason asked excitedly.

"Who?" Dick asked. He had lived with this family for three years now and still felt lost a lot of the time.

"Timmy!" Jason called back at him.

"I'll be right back," Bruce said as he began back down the hall, phone held to his ear. Damian snatched the paper off the desk and got comfortable on the bed. Jason and Dick both shared a knowing look. Damian always hated it when he lost to Tim. The eldest two were merciless to each other as they fought in a war that no one quite understood.

As amusing as it was to watch Damian try harder to figure out the secret to the sixth-grade homework, Dick couldn't help but feel nervous. While he didn't really feel comfortable asking Damian for help on his homework, he really didn't feel comfortable about even thinking about talking to Tim. It wasn't that he didn't like Tim, nor that he worried that Tim didn't like him. It was just that in all the years Dick had lived in the manor, he had only ever seen Tim Drake-Wayne in person and out of costume twice. Dick knew the stories and he could see the evidence all over the older boy. Tim was broken in so many ways and just slightly unhinged. He and Jason were thick as thieves of course, but there was something about Tim, something that unsettled Dick.

"Right in here." Bruce's voice alerted Dick that he had spaced out and now Tim was about to see his very messy room. Dick about jumped up and started cleaning but it was too late.

"So where's the infernal homework?" Tim joked as he strode into the room his eyes scanning the layout as he did so.

"Dami's got it," Jason informed him with a jab of his thumb in the eldest's direction. Tim's eyes landed on Damian and his right eye twitched a little.

"If you would kindly," Tim's voice sounded strained as he reached for the piece of paper. Damian's upper lip snarled as he handed it over. Again, always with these two. Jason shook his head and smirked at Dick, who just gave a shaky nod back to him.

"Alright Dick, I suppose as this is _your_ homework, and _you're_ the one that will be tested on this, why don't you and I go over this _alone_ and _without audience_?" Tim asked giving the others a pointed look.

"Awe, but I wanna see how's it done!" Jason whined, slipping back into the street accent that only Tim ever found endearing.

"Later," Tim promised with a ruffling of Jay's hair before the friendly hand moved to the back of Jason's head and shoved him forcibly out the door. It would almost seem a malevolent action if it wasn't for Jason's laughter. Slowly and while glaring at the second oldest the entire time, Damian stalked out of the bedroom and down the hall. Dick wondered if he too wanted to sit in on the lesson, and kind of wished he would. Tim sent Bruce away and closed the door, leaving Dick alone with his second eldest brother for the first time since he joined the family. Well, the first time ever. His insides were crawling and he bit his lip.

"Alright, Dick, let's get started."

___

Damian found Jason in the library, which was the obvious place to find the third child if one was ever looking. Damian had to admit that even though he always found Jason to be coarse, inappropriate, and petulant, he did approve of the younger boy's more scholastic habits. He frowned when he saw that Jason was reading one of the more modern pieces of trash instead of one of the classic reads in the room, but as Jason seemed to be willing to read just about anything and still held a favorite of Shakespeare, Damian kept his opinion to himself, something he wished he did more often when he first met Tim.

"When do you think they'll be done?" Jason grumbled.

"Excuse me?" Damian asked with a lift of his brow.

"Don't act like you didn't come in here to kill time until Tim finished with Dick. You wanna know the secret to that stupid diagraming thing as much as I do! So, when do you think they'll be done?" Damian huffed and walked over to the shelf. He scanned the books until he found the thickest one, an old autobiography of some general or something, and pulled it off the shelf.

"I suspect long enough for this to be read," He muttered back as he held the book up for Jason's view. Jason snickered, shook his head, and went back to reading 'Mocking Jay'. Damian sighed to himself as he allowed himself a small smile and looked at the book in his hands. He contemplated actually giving it an attempt before he decided he really had better things he could be doing and put it back on the shelf. The excited sound of Dick shouting echoed from the youngest boy's bedroom and the two brothers glanced at each other before they took off down the hall.

When they got to Dick's door, Damian stopped Jason just before the younger broke the door down, and they could hear laughing. Dick was laughing and whooping and cheering. Loudly. He wasn't in danger like they thought and Damian breathed a sigh of relief. Tim didn't do anything stupid, thank the heavens. After giving Dick some time for his celebration, Damian finally let Jason go and opened the door. Dick is still in the middle of jumping up and down at his desk while Tim was saving pages from flying off the desktop, large grin on his face.

"Hey, Damian! Check this out, it's actually really easy! Look!" Dick raced over to his other two older brothers and started in on a long-winded explanation of how the problems would be solved. Jason was staring at him barely managing to keep up with the youngest boy's words never mind keeping up with his thoughts. Damian, on the other hand, had his attention caught by Timothy, who was staring sadly at Dick and Jason, before his green eyes then met Damian's and the sadness turned to resentment and the second oldest of the sons finished organizing the papers and stood to leave.

"Thank you for helping Richard with his homework," Damian muttered. See! He was trying dammit!

"I know what you were thinking when you heard him screaming," Tim uttered back darkly. "It's smart to keep on your toes but don't insult me by pretending you trust me." With that, Tim brushed past Damian out of the bedroom. Damian only followed him with a glare but Jason was a bit more adamant.

"Timmy! You're not leaving already are you?" Jason called, his voice the picture of distress. Dick and Damian had to share a look. Just last night Jason had been out as Nightling but had been caught by a giant vine and held as a hostage while Poison Ivy threatened Batman with feeding his sidekick to a venomous Venus flytrap that looked more like an Acid Monster than an actual plant. Even then, Jason wasn't nearly as distressed as he was with Tim leaving so soon.

"I have to go Jason, or I might attempt at your life," Tim 'explained' and Dick had never been able to tell if he was joking whenever he said stuff like that or if he was honest. Jason was the only one who didn't seem to take Tim seriously during these talks.

"Aw, okay. I'll see you around then?" Jason asked, dejectedly. Tim just smiled and ruffled Jason's hair again, the same way he did when he first arrived.

"It's a promise." And like that, Tim was gone. Dick could hear the front door and he sighed as he moved to go back to his room. Just as he turned he could have sworn he caught Damian looking remorseful before catching Dick's eye and shifting to something more stoic. Dick had to wonder what that was about before he went back to his room. After he finished putting all his homework back in his backpack and gathering the dinner dishes, Dick made his way downstairs. He put the dishes in the kitchen and then went down to the cave to get ready for patrol.

Tonight, Robin was going to be teamed up with Batman while Nightling and Shadowbat took the east side. And, Dick supposed as he thought about it, Red Hood would be in the Bowery, keeping the bad guys there terrified and on the straight and narrow with his own, eclectic, brand of justice,. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like an explanation as to how the ages work out in this: Damian was born when Bruce was 17, he then retired when he himself was 18 and B was 35. Tim then comes along at 12, then let's say something HAPPENS when he's 16 that leads Jason to fill in as Nightling at the age of 14, while Damian is 22 and B is 39. Dick at 9 joins the family less than a year later.  
I put default responses for reviewers over on FFN, but a Kudos is fine by me. Comments do tend to make me feel the warm fuzzies though, so it depends on how well you liked the chapters I guess.


	2. Rabid Teacher's Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian gets to know his new little brother Jason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to play with the text settings to get things to look like they do in the other site, not sure I understand AO3 as well as I used to.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Jason-14 Damian-22

Chapter Two: The Rabid Teacher's Pet  
___

Damian drove up to Wayne Manor on his bike, stopping in front of the front door. He only paused in his brooding gaze to remove his helmet. The last time he had actually set foot in Wayne Manor was when Timothy, . . . Damian shook his head. He wasn't here to relive the past. He was here to make certain that it didn't repeat itself. So steeling himself over and stomping his nerves deep down in his gut, Damian Wayne abandoned his bike and made his way to the door. He actually had to pause when his first instinct was to knock. It was a passive-aggressive habit he had picked up during his and his father's more, ... abrasive part of their relationship. It wasn't to say that things were easy now between them, but it was progress. Slow, and unsteady, but progress non-the less. However, with how fragile everything had been between the two, Damian knew that just by knocking like he still didn't think of the manor as home anymore would be sufficient enough to destroy a good portion of that progress. Instead, Damian pulled out the key card Alfred had sent him when they updated the security systems and let himself in.

Already Damian could feel there was a difference between the last time he had been in the home and this one. For the most part, it no longer felt as depressing. Just with his first sweeping glance, Damian could see things had been moved around, a second glance showed him that it was all the more valuable, more fragile, items had been moved to either higher places or out of inconvenient areas all together, and a third glace at all the new dings in the wall gave him a good idea why. He pointedly chose to ignore specific pictures that had been removed from the main entryway as Damian continued on his mission.

There was a scent of Pennyworth's cookies wafting from the kitchen, and therefore, that was the direction Damian chose to go. Hopefully, the butler would be of aid in his quest. With the thought in mind, Damian entered the room to see Alfred Pennyworth scrubbing at a mixing bowl while dinner simmered on the stovetop and dessert baked in the oven. The old man's apron made Damian smile, just a little, as it called upon the memory of having bought it for the man his second Christmas in his father's home. Pennyworth finally paused his scrubbing to give Damian a knowing look and a smile before he moved to dry off his hands.

"Welcome home, Master Damian, I assume you will be joining us for dinner?" The Englishman asked as he moved to pull a mug from the cupboard, placing it on the counter.

"I believe I will today, thank you Pennyworth." Damian had since learned to see the butler in a grandfatherly light that his one actual grandfather could never shine against, but a part of that bond came from the understanding that it never needed to be addressed.

"Very good. Now if you'd be so kind as to take this tea up to Master Jason, I shall see to it that dinner will be ready in another half hour." The tricky butler poured boiling water from a kettle on one of the back burners into the mug before he pulled out a small mesh ball that was no doubt packed with tea leaves.

"So, you already know why I'm here," Damian sighed to himself. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." Pennyworth didn't respond as he wrapped the chain on the mesh ball around the handle of the mug and handed it to Damian.

"I warn, he may be in a bit of a sour mood," Pennyworth informed him, "Master Jason has been grounded once he returned home from school today."

Well, wasn't that just great? Damian carefully made his way up the stairs to the second floor as he analyzed the setback. This was going to be the first time he met his second little brother and already he was working against obstacles. He couldn't help that he was now curious at how the kid managed to get grounded. As far as Damian knew the new Nightling had only been in his father's care for three weeks now, what mischief could his youngest sibling already get into? The thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind as he deduced, via the only closed door, which one was now Jason's room and knocked.

"Go away and leave me to die in peace!" Now wasn't that an interesting response. Damian just knocked again. "I mean it, Bruce, I don't want ta talk to you!"

"Then it's a good thing I'm not my father," Damian called out. There was a pause and then a rustling before footsteps made their way to the door. When the door opened a young boy with hazel blue eyes glared up at him. Damian was almost taken aback at how the boy resembled his father, but then again it seemed to be a quality that Gotham breeds. One day of people watching on the street would prove that it was more common to find dark hair and light eyes in the city than any other coloration.

"Who are you? You look like a younger, tanner Bruce." Damian's brow twitched but he reminded himself that he could not afford to alienate this boy so early on in their relationship. Especially if they are to be brothers.

"My name is Damian, I'm Bruce Wayne's Tru-," Damian stopped and corrected himself, "eldest child. Pennyworth sent me with an offering." The young man held the mug up for the younger boy but was met with a suspicious gaze. Damian rolled his eyes before taking a sip of the tea and looking the boy in the eye with a cocked eyebrow. Jason waited for a beat before he accepted the mug of tea from Damian's hands and opened the door the rest of the way as a show of inviting him inside.

"Damian Wayne, huh? Yeah, Bruce and Alfie mentioned ya couple o' times. You're Shadowbat, ain't ya?" Jason called over his shoulder as he moved to his desk to the side of the room. Damian stopped short just past the door frame when he saw the mess Jason had made. Under the desk was lined with all of Jason's pillows as well as his thick comforter, and the desk chair had been upturned with the fitted sheet stretched over the wheels, spread to then cover the whole of the desk as if that was what the elastic corners were made to do. The non-fitted bed sheet was thrown over it lengthwise to make a door.

"I see you've already trashed your room?" Damian motioned to the, well the only word that came to his mind was 'nest'.

"It's my blanket fort!" Jason claimed proudly as he carefully crawled under with his tea. He reached farther back under the desk to pull out a book and smiled up at Damian. "Bruce said I was grounded ta my room and then took my T.V., as if I actually used the damn thing." Damian rose a brow at Jason expectantly and the boy seemed to backtrack. "Darn thing, I meant 'darn' thing."

"I take it Pennyworth still has yet to really make that lesson stick then, has he?" Damian asked as he sat on the naked mattress of Jason's bed.

"It's not my fault. On the streets, ya had ta show you weren't afraid of a few bad words. Now it's all about minding manners and not pi- ticking nobody off," Jason bemoaned. "so it's not my fault that it's taking forever ta memorize every stupid rule." The pout might have made a weaker man melt. Damian was not a weak man.

"So is that why you're grounded?" he asked. Jason's pout moved to a scowl.

"No. I'm grounded because there's no justice in the world," he declared. Damian hummed in sarcastic agreement causing Jason to glare at him.

"So what injustice has fallen upon you?" Damian pushed as he settled more comfortably on the bed.

"There are a couple of jerks at my new school, and they asked me very nicely ta rearrange their faces," Jason 'explained', "and so I did."

"I believe I will need farther clarification." Jason huffed at Damian before he too settled in his pillow 'fort', and took a breath to begin his story. A very, _very_ exaggerated breath. Maybe Bruce should get this one into theater.

"So I started a week after everyone else 'cause Bruce had only picked me up two weeks 'fore school had started-."

"Can you not speak like a hoodlum from the streets?" Damian interrupted.

"I _am_ and hoodlum from the streets," Jason scowled, "I gotta stick ta my roots!"

"You're going to find it necessary to ditch the Crime Alley accent or everyone is going to know you're Nightling," Damian pointed out. Jason just huffed again before sighing, very, _very_ dramatically.

"Fine!" He said in an exasperated tone. Jason then cleared his throat and started his tale up again. "Anyway. Everything was fine until English Lit when the teacher, Mr. Birchwood, decided to fix the assigned seating. See, since I was a week new he had just put me on the end, but he decided today that he was just going make me and Bentley Windsow switch places since the room was supposed to be in alphabetical order and we were throwing it off. But Bentley was used to sitting with his pal Jacob Steward and me being Jason Todd, put me between them, so they decided they were going to pick on me. I just ignored them at first, but that only made them try harder. They then started to make comments about Bruce, but I ignored that too. I didn't want to, but I know how bad it looks reacting to shi-crap like that. Tends to make people think it's true. Then Mr. Birchwood asked a question about Ray Bradbury's 'Fahrenheit 451' and I had just read that book last summer so I answered. _Sure_ I was a bit overly enthusiastic about it, but give me a break, it was the first time reading ever gave me an edge in something! So, of course, Jacob and Bentley start making fun of me for being a 'teacher's pet', but I ignored that too! I stopped being able to ignore them when Bentley Windsow said that only fa-," Jason paused and glared down at his tea. "He said 'only fa-'. He said only gays like reading. But he didn't use the word 'gay' and _that's_ when I jumped him. I then proceeded to bloody his nose with his own hardback copy of 'To Kill A Mockingbird' by Harper Lee."

Damian paused and had to appreciate the poetry in the image of a book about fighting discrimination without violence being used to violently fight a bigot. Though he had to ask, "What was it that made you jump to violence? Being called 'gay' or being made fun of for reading?"

"Neither. I hit him cause he said the 'f' word," Jason clarified. "I don't care about being called 'gay'. I grew up on the streets, I've been called worse." Damian had to nod in acceptance of the boy's answer.

"So you didn't approve of the slur? I would think growing on the streets you'd get used to hearing them."

"Didn't mean I liked it, and you can bet your as- erm, bottom dollar that anyone I could beat up for it I did. 'frick' and 'darn' and 'crud', their bad forms? I used them all the time! But the eff-ay-gee word? No! Same with the 'N' word, the 'C' word, and the 'R' word!" Damian followed along and started to get a better understanding of the boy before him. Jason's sense of justice expanded even into his vocabulary, and Damian could see why his father saw 'Nightling' in him for it.

Damian and Jason spent another couple of hours talking and bonding. Damian still found Jason to be a bit uncouth, but he did have to give the boy credit in his dedication to his love of reading. 'During the summer and winter the library was good shelter and I just kinda picked it up-' was his excuse for his bookish nature. By the time they finished talking Pennyworth explained that dinner had been reheated and they would have company now that his father had returned from work. The eldest son figured that if conversation with his father remained as icy as it had for the past few years, he'd just strike up another with Jason to prove that it wasn't due to his own incompatibilities.

A few days later found Damian attempting to hold a civil conversation with his father without Jason around to act as a crutch for him. The end result saw the two men sitting in the study by the empty fireplace sipping at their tea, not knowing how to break the ice between them. It was a heavy silence that made Damian wonder if it was even worth it to try to salvage his relationship with his father. The man didn't seem all that interested in the same. Then again, this was his father, a man who, while held more love and passion than Damian's mother, had even less practice showing it. The fact that the Oh-So-Busy Bruce Wayne and Oh-So-Important Batman had both been put aside for the past hour in favor of a wordless cup of tea with his son should probably speak volumes about how hard the older man was trying. But Damian wanted him to try _harder_.

Just as Damian was about to really work himself into breaking the ice with some scathing and completely uncalled for words, the front door opened and slammed shut while an ornery fourteen-year-old boy shouted at the top of his lungs, "I QUIT SCHOOL!". Both Damian and his father rushed to the door where Damian's father instantly set in on Jason for slamming the door. When the boy seemed properly admonished Damian felt it was an appropriate time to satiate his own curiosity.

"So, may I ask why you are considering dropping out?" Damian asked.

"I'm not considering! It's past considered! It's been decided!" Jason called out flailing his arms about as he spoke.

"Seriously, Father, when are you going to have him enrolled in an acting troupe?" Damian muttered to the man beside him.

"I, too, wonder why I put it off," his father muttered back, a tired though amused, look on his face.

"Dames, ya 'member when I told ya 'bout Bentley Windsow and Jacob Steward, right?" Jason started by referencing a previous conversation.

"I do. I also remember telling you to talk like a civilized person."

"Gah! Fine!" Jason relented and straightened up as he continued to talk, as if keeping a proper posture helped remind him to keep to proper dictation as well. "So, get this, after Bentley's face healed up and was no longer all bruised to hel-hec- all bruised up," Jason had to try a couple times to watch his mouth and Damian's father's lips twitched as if threatening to smile, "he recruited 'Kegs' Kingsly and Monte Brooks to help him and Jacob try to 'teach me a lesson'. Alright, fine, I can handle myself in a fight. I can even take a beating and throw the fight to preserve my identity as Nightling. But Kegs said that the reason I beat up Bentley was because he made fun of Ray Bradbury and I corrected him and said it was because he said the 'F' word, but that just made them think I was talking about the word 'Fu-'erm the street version of 'frick'. Then they started chanting that I was a 'teacher's pet' and a 'nerd' and then they tried to beat me up and I was already angry and frustrated and so when Kegs tried to punch me, I hit him in the face using his own fist and stomped off when they were distracted. Now they have everyone saying 'F-word' around me, and no, I'm not abbreviating that time, they are literally saying 'F-word', and started a rumor that I ran crying! I didn't once cry the entire time!"

Jason was out of breath from his story, and considering how many run-on sentences he used, Damian was impressed that he didn't pass out half-way through. He did notice that the younger boy's eyes were slightly wet as if he was fighting back tears, and his nose was dripping a little as Jason no doubt fought off the urge to 'sniffle'. Damian hummed in thought and chanced a looked to his father, who's stone straight face was all the proof Damian needed to know that the man was dying of laughter on the inside. The older brother rolled his eyes and addressed the younger boy again.

"So your plan to fix your sullied reputation is to run with your tail between your legs like a coward?" He asked. Jason glared at him before he seemed to realize the truth of what Damian was saying.

"I, uh, I guess I can't do that either, can I?" Jason muttered to himself before his eyes found his shoes and he bit his lip.

"Honestly if the worst is being considered a 'teacher's pet' then I believe you're doing fine. At least if your peers are constantly looking down on you they'll never suspect you to secretly be Nightling." Damian smirked when Jason glared back up at him. "Consider it a sacrifice for the greater good."

"Fine," Jason huffed as he crossed his arms. Putting so much overemphasis on the action it was ridiculous.

"Also," Damian's father jumped into the conversation, finally getting it together, "I want you to try to avoid fights. I understand that these boys cornered you and that this 'Kegs' threw the first punch, but I would rather you duck and run while at school."

"Bruce. I ain't no sissy. I'm from the street, and if someone throws a punch at me, I'ma hit 'em back. Three times as hard," Jason said plainly while looking his adoptive father in the eye. "And I promise this, next time those losers corner me, one of 'em is going to the hospital."

There was nothing left to say on the topic, at least, as far as Damian could see. It appeared that Jason was of a similar mindset as he picked up his book bag from where he had dropped it before and marched his way up the stairs to his room. Somewhere in the back of Damian's mind he could hear a voice telling him that this wasn't the end of it.

___

It was barely a week later and Damian was walking toward the headmaster's office of Jason's high school. Damian had to be the one to go, of course, because his father was busy in a meeting for Wayne Industries that Fox wouldn't let him out of and Pennyworth insisted that he needed to work on dinner and requested that Damian be the one to go. Damian was more than well aware that the butler was just giving him another opportunity to bond with his new younger brother and therefore let himself be manipulated to the task easily enough. However, he was not prepared for the queasy feeling in the bottom of his gut at the thought of dealing with an irate school official.

The feeling subsided a little with the aid of amusement at the sight of three young teenage boys with their own parents, sitting in the waiting room. Each one sported some impressively dark bruises on their faces and each of their parents were seething. Judging by the count of the boys, Damian deduced that Jason must have made good on his threat to send one of his bullies to the hospital.

Ready to get this over with, Damian walked up to the desk where the secretary was filing paperwork and cleared his throat, "Excuse me, I'm Damian Wayne, Jason's brother."

The secretary nodded at him and lead him to the door just behind her desk to the Headmaster's office, where Headmaster Smith sat glaring at Jason. Jason, for his part, was failing to hide the satisfied look on his face despite knowing it would only be detrimental to his own well being. Damian figured as the boy's big brother, he'd best help the kid out with that.

"So," Damian called Jason's attention, "Which work of classic literature did they mock this time, Nerd?"

The speed in which Jason's subtle smirk soured made Damian's heart sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. This is probably going to take longer than I thought it was going to. This is my second chapter today and it's been an hour since I started. I thought this would be mostly just 'copy/paste'ing. SO MUCH CODING!!!! Ugh.  
See ya guys next time!!!


	3. Birthday Cake Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's 10th Birthday!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I'm going to start putting ages up here instead))  
My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Dick -10 Jason - 14

Jason tipped toed his way down the hallway. He thankfully didn't have far to go, given that Dick's room was right next to his own. He quietly opened his younger brother's bedroom door and peered in to see the small curled up form as he snored lightly in his sleep. It was adorable now, but Jason could just see six years down the line those cute light snored growing into a chainsaw like roars.

Jason had to chuckle to himself before he reached down to gently shake the boy awake. Dick wasn't much of a light sleeper so Jason had to get steadily rougher with his shaking before the younger stirred.

"Oi, Dickie, wake up." Jason tried his best to keep his voice soft, not wanting to jar Dick awake as much as just rouse him from his sleep. Dick grumbled a bit before he opened his eyes, blinking groggily up at Jason.

"Jay? Wa izzi?" Dick asked with a slurred speech that came from both sleep and being ESL.

"Happy birthday, Dickie," Jason answered, pulling a gift out from behind his back. Dick grumbled and glared for a moment before his mind registered that the gift was for him.

"It's my birthday!" He shouted in surprise as if to remind himself. Jason snickered and ruffled his hair with his free hand, using the other to keep the gift out of Dick's reach.

"Not so fast. First I want you to agree to come downstairs with me once you've opened it," Jason told him with a serious voice.

"But it's before six. We'll get in trouble," Dick reminded Jason.

Jason just rolled his eyes. "It's your birthday Dick, and you won't be alone. Come on, you want your gift now or not?" Dick looked at the hastily wrapped package, covered in duct tape and old newspaper.

"Now," the boy decided.

"Well, then here you go." Jason handed his little brother his gift and Dick immediately tore into it. In two large rips, a medium-sized, stuffed elephant had been bared of its wrappings.

"Jay-" Dick seemed at a loss for words for a brief second, and knowing the young chatterbox, Jason decided to take this moment to explain the gift a bit.

"It's a new little brother for Peanut. Like how you're my new little brother," Jason said as he lifted the ratted up, old stuffed elephant that seemed to forever stand on its last leg. It was as if the very existence of the stuffed toy relied solely on the innocent hopes and dreams of young children and Dick was the only one left to believe. Damian had once offered to replace the plush but the very suggestion had thrown Dick into a screaming fit that lasted for hours until Damian made a show of apologizing to the original elephant. Something Jason had prompted him to do and will forever feel proud of himself for; not only the fact that he got the tough and serious Damian to talk to a stuffed elephant, but also for the mere fact that it worked.

Jason had been worried that Dick's first assumption upon receiving the new elephant would be that Jason was trying to replace the old one like Damian had suggested, but after hearing Jason's reasoning, Dick seemed satisfied and smiled brightly.

"Sister! His new little sister and her name is Zitka!" Dick announced proudly. Jason had to laugh before he ruffled Dick's hair again. Dick giggled before he lifted Zitka up for similar treatment. Jason just smiled and complied.

"Alright. Deal's a deal. Let's go," Jason said as he grabbed one of Dick's arms and hauled him out of bed.

"What are we going to do downstairs, Jay?" Dick asked. He stumbled after his brother dutifully, if hesitantly. Jason was steadily bringing out the trouble maker in his younger brother, it was just taking a bit of time coaxing it out of him.

"We're gonna bake you a birthday cake, Dickie," Jason replied with a big grin on his face. Jason had been planning it for a week now and even managed to get Alfred to buy the ingredients they'd need. He at first played with the idea not to tell the Butler and see how the man reacted alongside Bruce, but then thought the better of it for a long list of reasons. On top of which was Jason's love of seeing daylight.

"Do you even know how?" Dick asked skeptically.

"Of course I do. You just gotta make sure to read the book carefully and follow the directions well enough."

"You're supposed to read the box, not some book," Dick 'corrected' him. Jason knew that if Alfred had heard that, the poor old butler might just have had a heart attack. Jason just snickered.

"Your folks use the old 'Betty Crocker' recipes, huh?"

"Mom's favorite is the red velvet, but Dad always says she might as well get the chocolate cause at least it's not a liar." Dick was rubbing at his eyes when he spoke, and so he missed the pained look Jason accidentally sent him. Jason couldn't help it, it was just a swell of emotion that flooded his chest when he heard the younger orphan refer to his parents in present tense.

"Yeah, well, I'm not too fancy, so we're going to be making vanilla with chocolate icing. Alright?" Jason flipped the lights on in the kitchen and went straight to the sink to wash his hands. "You can put Zitka on the counter over there so she'll be out of harm's way, okay?" Jason suggested over his shoulder. It was as if the mention of the elephant reminded Dick that it wasn't the one he was used to and the panicked look in his eye immediately put Jason on edge.

"Peanut! Jason, we left Peanut upstairs! We have to go back for him!" Dick cried. Jason floundered for a brief second before he got an idea.

"I don't know, Dickie, Peanut isn't as young as his little sis, here. If you ask me, he looked like he could use a couple more hours of sleep. Why don't we let him rest a bit longer and save him a slice of cake when it's done?" When Dick visibly calmed down at Jason's 'logic', Jason breathed out in relief.

"I guess you're right. He was up late last night," Dick decided before he tucked Zitka up on the island counter and out of the way.

"Okay, now wash your hands real quick while I get out the stuff we'll need." And from there the mess started.

* * *

Alfred came in about an hour later as Jason poured cake batter into a pan, the boy was covered head to toe in flour and his little brother wasn't much better off. Dick was sitting up on the counter holding the pan on either side as if to keep it still, he had the added flavor of raw egg in his hair as well as the flour that decorated his face. Alfred smiled to himself despite the utter mess the two children had made of the kitchen in favor of pulling out a small digital camera. He had a scrapbook to fill after all.

"Alfie! Good Morning!" Jason called over to the aging butler with a bright smile. His call startled young Dick who didn't realize the old man was in the doorway and looked at him with an expression of panic.

"It wasn't my idea Alfie!" He called out immediately, throwing his older brother under the proverbial bus. Jason noticed it too.

"Hey, you runt!" The older of the two growled.

"It wasn't!" Dick defended himself as he jumped off the counter and backed away from the pan, as if it absolved him of the guilt. Alfred allowed himself a small chuckle before he cleared up the misunderstanding.

"It's perfectly alright, Master Dick. Master Jason had acquired permission last week. He's been planning this for some time from what I understand." Dick seemed to calm down after that, but Jason was now thoroughly miffed.

"Brat, trying to get me to take the hit for you. What's with the doubt? It's not like I've ever steered you wrong before!" Jason went back to emptying the mixing bowl into the glass pan. He had even procured a rubber spatula to scrape out the batter at the bottom of the dish.

"Nuh-ah, remember the thing with the pool balls?" Dick reminded his older brother.

"Okay, the 'Billiard Ball' incident was _your_ fault. That makes it different," Jason declared.

"It was NOT _my_ fault! You weren't playing right!" Dick accused back.

"I wasn't _playing_. I was _practicing_," Jason growled in response.

"I hate to interrupt this rather important debate, but I believe the oven is sufficiently heated, and the rest of the dishes may be washed as you are waiting the recommended forty-five minutes for the cake to be properly baked," Alfred interjected, ending the argument before it got too loud. Jason carefully took the pan and slid it into the top half of the rather advanced kitchen range. Alfred started up the soap and water in the sink before pulling a step ladder out for Dick's use. When both boys were stationed at the sink to start cleaning their own mess, Alfred began to make breakfast. He figured he might as well make pancakes as the ingredients were still left out after the boys had used them for Dick's birthday cake.

He thought back to Jason's suggestion that he and Dick be the ones to make it, insisting that his first birthday in Wayne Manor needed a 'home-made' cake. When Alfred had tried to assure Jason that he would be making the cake from scratch at home, Jason had a guilty look on his face as he shuffled his feet. It took a bit of goading before the butler had gotten him to admit that he didn't want Alfred to bake the cake because Alfred's cakes were too 'professional' looking and that it needed to _l__ook_ homemade too. Alfred chose to take it as a compliment and think as well of the bonding that was sure to come from the experience. Looking to the two youngest of his master's children, Alfred couldn't help but smile. Of all his new older brother's, Dick took to Jason the fastest. It helped that they came from similar worlds. Neither were quite used to the extravagance of high society and seemed to feed off each other when it came to following through with bad ideas.

At that thought, the two had begun a splash battle with the soapy water. Alfred just kept to his corner of the kitchen. It was Dick's first birthday without Mr. and Mrs. Grayson to celebrate it with him. Alfred figured a bit of mopping, on top of all the other cleaning the kitchen was going to require, was a small price to pay to help make it a good one none-the-less.

"Hey, Dickie," Alfred watched that mischievous gleam enter the fourteen-year-old's eyes, "Happy Tenth!"

With that, he gave his brother one large splash and the war had escalated.


	4. The Worth of Your Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick starts to understand Damian, just a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Dick-10 Damian-23

Robin swung gracefully back and forth while he felt his blood rush to his face. Honestly, he didn't know how much of it was from actual gravity, and how much was from the embarrassment of having to be caught by Shadowbat the way he did. He was going to say it was mostly the second since it was only his second night out and his eldest brother was giving him a very dark glare.

"If I said I was really, _really_ sorry, would you consider not telling Batman?" Dick asked.

"No." That was the only reply he received before Damian went about getting him down.

"I really _am_ sorry, Da-, Shadowbat." Dick bit his lip when he saw the look Damian was giving him. He hadn't missed the fact that Dick about said his name in the field. Dick wasn't even allowed to use the excuse that he was still getting used to it. After all, what if they had to spontaneously go undercover and he needed to use a different code name for Dami all together? It was important that Dick knows how to switch between names on the spot and not get mixed up. His future as 'Robin' depended on it. Especially if he ever expected to get promoted to 'Nightling' someday.

"If you are indeed apologetic, I would advise you to heed my direction from here on out, Robin." Damian's voice grew low and into a snarl. "Such as when I tell you not to take unnecessary risks for the sake of _showing off_."

"But I wasn't showing off. I was bored!" Dick tried to defend himself. He was kneeling so he could properly run some feeling back into his ankle.

"If you're bored then perhaps you should return for the night," Damian snapped. That got Dick's attention to just how much trouble he was about to be in.

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I promise!" Damian gave Dick a very stern look.

"You promise? You are giving me your word? Now how much is your word worth, I wonder?"

"What?" Dick was confused. Since when were words worth anything? Did he have to pay to speak now?

"If you give your word about something, such as doing as I tell you, only for you to then turn around and break that promise, your word isn't worth much, now is it?"

"Well, I-"

"_If_ you manage to keep your word here and now, and continue to in the future, I would wager your word to be worth more than even that of Batman's."

"Would it really? That would be coo-"

"If you shackle yourself to your word, I can only imagine the blunder you'd end up in if you made the mistake of making the wrong promise at the wrong time. How much would your word be worth then?" Dick felt very small as Damian loomed over him. It was only now that Dick realized that Damian didn't care for his promises.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered again. He didn't know why Damian never liked him, but he did realize that he had done very little in the way of proving the man wrong about him. If only Jason were around to ease the tension. Just as it looked like Damian was about to go into another lecture about apologizes, there was a scream from an alleyway nearby.

They both ran for it, Dick realizing their disadvantage of not being on the rooftop. That was his fault having fallen off an icy ledge when he was doing flips just earlier. Damian didn't say anything about it as he seemed to be back in 'Shadowbat' mode; moving to the side of the opening of the alleyway. His dark gray cloak swept silently at his ankles as he replaced the heavy hood and readied his katana. His mask covered the entire top half of his face, which worked with the hood to leave only his chin barely visible in the shadows. The rest of his costume looked similar to Batman's though his chest bore a gray bat on black armor instead of the other way around like Bruce's did. Dick took a deep breath and put himself back into his 'Hero Mode' as well. It was sorta like acting, the way Stephanie tried to explain it to him once. He let himself remember that at that moment he wore a dark green domino mask and dark red body armor, save for the pants which were the same green as his mask. He also had a cape, but when he kept tripping on it during training, Alfred had pulled the hem up to the top of his thighs instead of sweeping at his feet like the others. His sleeves were also short, unlike the rest, though that was more stylistic than practicality on Dick's part.

His mind back into the game, Robin glanced around Shadowbat's shoulder as they watched a young woman holding a pistol up at a middle-aged man wielding a knife defensively. They both looked scared. It was easy to see why Shadowbat had yet to attack, there was no way to tell who was the attacker and who was the prepared victim. Robin tried to look closer for more clues. The woman's clothes were ragged and dirty, she looked like she hadn't bathed in a long while, probably homeless and mugging this man for food money. The man was dressed in a manner that suggested a middle-class worker on his way home, he was kinda ugly looking and can't possibly do well with the ladies. He could have just tried to take advantage of the woman before him before she surprised him by pulling out her gun. After a few beats, Shadowbat relaxed beside him and slowly walked into the alley with his arms raised in a placating manner.

"Ma'am, Sir, I believe this evening may go better for both of you if you replace your weapons and go your separate ways," Shadowbat insisted.

"I'll put my gun 'way when he's lost the knife!" The woman cried in a thick crime alley accent.

"Like hell I'm putting my knife away while she's got a gun out!" The man replied just as distressed.

"What are you going ta do with a knife to a gun?" The woman asked him with an expression on her face like she thought he was an idiot.

"I, well, I," The man floundered for a moment, "It makes me feel safe, if you must know." There was a pause before the woman started laughing, and put her gun down.

"Oh, God 'ave marcy! You nearly scared me ta death! I thought cha were attacking me!" Robin watched as she put the gun back in a bag that was hanging from her shoulder. "Did you reely pull outta knife when you thought I was about to shoot cha?" The man blushed a bright red and folded his knife to pocket it safely.

"I suppose I'll just be on my way then," the man excused himself and started back out of the alley.

"Well, thanks fo' clearing that up, Shadowbat," the woman called to the hero in front of her before she moved to a bin of trash that she must have been rummaging through when she was first startled by the man. Shadownbat came back out of the alley toward Robin and he frowned, looking toward where the man had walked off.

"Case solved?" Robin asked.

"Maybe. I know she was probably digging through the trash, but what was he doing in the alleyway that it would have startled the woman?" Shadowbat pulled out his grappling hook and shot it to the roof, lifting himself instantaneously. Robin sighed and followed suit. He was supposed to be learning after all.

They quietly followed the man until as he wandered the dark streets of Gotham, continuously checking street names and something he seemed to had written on a piece of paper. He was trying to get someplace. He seemed nervous; always checking over his shoulder. His gaze even swept the rooftops every once in a while, nearly spotting Robin twice.

After they tailed him about ten blocks, the man squared his shoulders before walking down another alleyway. This time he seemed he seemed confident about having made it to the right destination. He walked in just as the two heroes made it to the rooftops of the alley's buildings.

"Where were you, Sims?" a large man in a dark suit asked from the back of the alleyway. On either side of him was a bodyguard with thin sunglasses and an earpiece. They also wore dark suites though obviously as part of a uniform and not as a style like their boss. Dick noted that they were both smaller than their boss in both terms of height and body muscle, and the one on the boss' right was a woman. Previous lessons told him to be wary as this may be a sign that the bodyguards might be more experienced in martial arts or marksmanship than they look and should not be underestimated.

"Sorry Boss, I was lost, I swear, I meant to be on time!" 'Sims' defended himself instantly.

"Quiet. You weren't followed, were you?" The boss asked.

"No, I swear. I mean, I was stopped by some mugger who held me up at gunpoint but Shadowbat stopped him. The masks are too busy with him to have followed me," Sims lied. Dick frowned at the guy from his spot on top of the fire escape. Why bother lying about all of that? He even lied about the sex of the person who had him at gunpoint!

"You lied to me about your wife, Sims, remember? You swore she was sick and needed a hospital," the boss brought up in a growl. "You aren't even married, are you Simmons?"

"She's my ex-wife, I still love her, I can't help it. I still call her my wife!" Sims swore. Dick found it really hard to believe this. After everything the guy lied about, Dick couldn't be certain that he was telling the truth about this.

"It hardly matters. Now tell me about Stiffins, I need to know if he's got his business secured yet."

"Almost, Jon just managed to get a loan on his grandmother's home so he could afford it. She believes in him and is trying to support him, so she put everything on the line to help him out. He even put a 'Goal Board' up in his office with 'Pay Grand-Mama back plus interest' at the very top. It was just enough to pay off the building he needs," Sims quickly relayed for the man before him.

"So if Stiffs fails, it's poor ol' Granny that loses everything, huh? Perfect. I want you to put as much doubt in Johnny-boy's mind, and just as he's about to falter, I'll swoop in and put the last bit of pressure on him. You understand, Sims?"

"Y-yes Boss, I'll be sure to question everything Jon does. He thinks of me as a brother. Just you watch, his confidence will take a nose dive with-in the week!" Sims nodded as he spoke and his whole body trembled terribly.

"Good, and if we can get Stiffins off the market before he even launches, I'll pay you so big you'll be able to afford that unnecessary surgery for your imaginary wife of yours!" The boss started to laugh at his own joke.

"Thank you, Boss! Thank you!" Sims cried out with a smile as the large 'boss' man and his two bodyguards shoved past the shacking rat to the exit of the alleyway.

"You keep me informed about our friend Stiffins, and try to curb that lying of yours before it gets you into trouble, Sims." The Boss got into a shiny, black SUV with his bodyguards and drove away before Sims walked away and when straight for the bus stop.

"What do we do Shadowbat?" Dick asked, looking to his elder brother.

"I'm going to put a tag on our new friend 'Sims' as well as look into what Evens Inc. has been up to lately," Damian explained, "Other than that, there really isn't much we _can_ do."

"Why Evens Inc.?"

"That man who just got into the SUV, that was Rodger Evens, CEO of the small-time Evens Inc. An 'up and comer' of the pharmaceutical world. My bet would be that 'Jon Stiffins' is planning to open a pharmaceutical with more reasonable prices," Damian explained.

Dick nodded as Damian finished typing something on his wrist computer, putting the information into a file for further investigation after patrol. The two of them started off again on their rounds but something kept bother Dick. Finally, he had to mention it.

"That Sims guy. He kept swearing, like, making promises and stuff," Dick muttered out of the blue.

"Yes, he did," Damian all but brushed Dick's comment off.

"But nothing he said was honest. He lied about everything to do with the homeless lady. He didn't even need to."

"You're correct. I suspect he's what is known as a 'compulsive liar'. There are some people who lie so much that they've lost all sight of the truth. They sometimes even have themselves convinced of their lies. There are even stories of some who do such a good job of just that that polygraph tests are useless on them." Dick listened as Damian spoke. He thought back to their earlier conversation about the worth of Dick's words, and somehow he was finally able to understand.

Sims' word was worthless, but Damian's word was gold. After all, there wasn't a single time that Dick could think of that Damian lied, even in order to spare his feelings. And right there and then, Dick decided he wanted a word like his eldest brother's.

With that, Dick managed to finish the night off without fidgeting or showing off, . . . too much.


	5. Bruce Meet Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is starting to realize he needs a partner more than he originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Tim-12 Damian-18

One of the things Bruce would never admit to was how often he saw his life and past mistakes flash before his eyes. Mainly for the fact that it would mean that he had to fess up to messing up so fantastically that he actually saw his life flash before his eyes, but also that he'd then mess up again not too long later. As the blood rushed to his head and the water filled the tank below him, Bruce couldn't help but think back to one of his more recent arguments with his son Damian.

"You talk as if you don't need Nightling around! Do you know how many times you would have died if not for me?"

"I did just fine without Nightling before. You're a hero in training, don't overestimate yourself."

"I'm eighteen years old, Father, and I have been 'training' my whole life!"

"Fighting well is only one part of what it takes out there. You need more life experience."

"More life experience? I have eleven years of life experience on the streets! That's only five years less than you!"

That still hadn't been enough to convince Bruce, and even then he honestly couldn't remember how the argument started. He did know how it ended, though. With Damian packing his bag and slamming the door. At first, Bruce had been worried that Damian went off to rejoin his mother and the league of assassins. It was made evident with the first appearance of Shadowbat in Bludhaven that wasn't the case. Deep in his heart, Bruce couldn't help but be proud of his son for having begun to make his own way in the world, at the same time scared that he wouldn't be able to be there for Damian should something happen.

All of that was a week ago, and now Bruce was the one who needed assistance. Riddler had gotten the jump on him and he was now chained up, hanging by his ankles over a seven-foot tall cylindrical fish tank. The water stank of chlorine and he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. Riddler was smart and spoke loudly so Batman could hear him over all the water, blood, and regret that the captured hero was being bombarded with.

"It was quite unfortunate for you to have followed me here, Batman. Unfortunate for you!" Riddler laughed as he walked over to grab a hanging control box. It had four buttons; two black, one red and one green. His thumb hovered over the green button as he spoke. "While you're hanging there, I'll give you a riddle to mull over as you drown! If I roar, and rain, and have in common with polo and planes, what am I?" With that, Edward Nygma press the green button and sauntered off, twirling his cane as he went. The chain holding Batman slowly started to lower him into the icy water and Bruce was nearly insulted by Edward's riddle. Why not add falls to a riddle about water.

His mind tried to think about something more important, such as how to get free. He didn't have his belt, and he had no backup. His mind supplied the image of Damian, his dark messy hair and piercing blue eyes, nine years old again, looking worried as his father tried to overcome yet another death trap. Bruce nearly lost his breath at how real the image was. It was as if a young Damian really was standing on the other side of the glass. Bruce watched as Damian then ran to the hanging control and grabbed it. Suddenly, Bruce felt the chain stop and begin to pull him out of the tank.

When his head was no longer submerged, Batman took in large heaving breaths, sucking in air greedily to help clear the hallucinations from his eyes. But as he took in air, the boy at the controls continued to fiddle with the buttons until the large hero was being lower safely to the dry ground of the wear house. As Bruce lifted himself from the ground and the boy got to work picking the padlocks that held the chains in place, Batman was able to see it wasn't Damian after all. This boy looked familiar, however Bruce just couldn't place a name to his face.

"Common Batman, you have to hurry before Riddler gets to the Masterson's private airfield!" the boy exclaimed.

"The Masterson's private airfield?" Batman inquired.

"The Riddler needs to get out of Gotham, right? Then he's got to be heading to the Masterson's private airfield over on Crowley."

"Why would you suspect there?" Bruce now tried to stand but found that he still had no feeling in his legs. The boy was kind enough to lend Batman his shoulder to lean on as he helped Bruce to a crate to sit on. It was strange, like having Nightling at his side again.

"Because of his riddle before he left. Remember?" The boy's voice was incredulous, as if Batman missed an obvious clue.

"The one about water?"

"It wasn't about water, it was about lions!"

"Water rains, Falls roar, cars hydro-plane, and then there's water-polo.."

The boy shook his head as Bruce spoke before interrupting, "Lions _reign _as kings of the jungle. They also roar. The Masterson's family crest is of a roaring lion with a crown. They also own a private polo course that can be found right next to their private airfield for their private jets and planes!" As the boy spoke the clues clicked in place and Bruce felt like a moron for not having caught such an obvious riddle.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve..." Bruce looked the boy up and down before frowning. The boy was tiny for a tweleve-year-old. Malnourished, perhaps?

"What are you doing out here, where is your family?"

"I, well, um, ..." The boy seemed extremely hesitant to answer. Bruce gave one thought to staying and learning more about the child, but time was against him and he needed to get to the Masterson's airfield. His utility belt was on a nearby crate where the Riddler tossed it after it had zapped him. He had tried to open some of the compartments but accidentally activated one of Batman's security measures.

"It will have to wait," Batman got back to his feet and shot a grappling hook to the open sky-light. It must have been how the boy got in to save Batman. As the hook latched to the edge of the roof, Bruce's eyes followed the most likely route the boy had to have taken to get down from the skyward window safely. Even the easiest path for a boy of his size would have required a significant degree of difficulty. Bruce looked back to the boy who was looking at him with the same big eyes as most fans do their favorite idols. "We are going to have a talk about how dangerous your hobbies are."

With that, Batman took off and set after the Riddler.

* * *

Bruce sat at the bat-computer thinking over the events that had occurred over the night. The strange boy had been right, Bruce arrived at the Masterson's private airfield just as Riddler had gotten the engine started on their jet. Batman had staled it with a localized EMP and locked the Riddler inside before calling the police to pick him up.

After finishing with the Riddler, Batman went back to look for the boy only to see that the skylight had been closed and locked back up. That was the only sign that the boy had been there at all. No prints, no loose hairs, nothing out of place. Just a locked skylight where Batman had left it open. Bruce leaned forward against the control panel of the computer as he tried to search his memory. He was certain that he knew that boy from somewhere.

After nothing came to mind, Bruce finished his report

* * *

It was a week later and Bruce hadn't seen the boy again, even once. He had all but given up. He had refocused his attention toward his crime-fighting and trying to figure out what the best strategy for dealing with his son. Damian, for his part, was outright refusing to acknowledge his father existed. Bruce knew that they couldn't continue like this, but if Damian kept acting like a spoiled child huffing about how unfair his father was, then there was nothing to help it.

This night, however, it all had to be put away in favor of the new recreation center being put up near crime alley. The idea was that it would give poor and/or homeless families a place to let their children interact with the community and not get lost in darker aspects of Gotham. Letting children whose parents couldn't afford sports equipment a chance to play with balls and bats and hoops as well as a safe play for them to do. It was an important matter to Bruce, and one he took seriously.

Unfortunately, those he was hosting in the Recreation Center's fundraising Gala, were a little less than serious about the whole thing. Bruce, all done up with a bow-tie, kept fighting the urge to grind his teeth as he reminded himself that these people were donating substantial amounts toward the center. The problem was trying to forget that their only real motivations for doing so were to brag about how much they could afford to give away, gossip to other socialites about the latest scandals, and be seen while doing so.

One such couple was the Drakes, a poorly disguised matriarchy in a man-ruled world. Mrs. Janet Drake was a brilliant woman who knew everything about anything business, and was probably the only reason her husband's company didn't nose dive before it ever kicked off. Mr. Jack Drake, on the other hand, was one of the most willfully ignorant men Bruce had ever met. Yet he seemed to fully believe that he was the brains of any operation Bruce had the misfortune of witnessing him perform. Once Bruce had wondered why Janet didn't just take the reins of the business or start her own, but a little research showed exactly why. No one would support a business started by a woman with Janet Harris' unfortunate background. Poor, homeless relatives, incarcerated relatives, abusive father, suicidal mother; Janet Drake was a woman who wanted her past forgotten. Being the CEO of a business would do the very opposite of that.

"Mr. Wayne!" Janet Drake acknowledged as she and her husband walked by. Bruce pretended not to see how Jake was paying much more attention to the couples dancing than the conversation his wife was trying to start between the two businessmen. She was obviously trying to get him to mingle and help the brand. He obviously just wanted to enjoy the party.

"Mrs. Drake, and Mr. Drake! Enjoying the evening so far?" Bruce asked, engaging in small talk.

"It's a wonderful party, Bruce, and such a lovely cause. Whatever gave you the idea to build a Youth Center?" Janet asked. She was being clever in how she manipulated the conversation. With just two sentences she had complimented him, something he worked hard on, and shown (what at least seemed to be) a genuine interest in his methods.

"Not too long ago, I ran into a young boy who reminded me of my own son, Damian, when he was little. You can understand how it then broke my heart to see the child was without any supervision or a proper way to busy himself that wouldn't have landed him in trouble. I haven't seen him since, but I'm hoping to give him as well as any other child from middle and lower-class families these opportunities," Bruce answered her question honestly.

"Ah, I see what you're doing, and good on you Bruce!" Jack Drake cheered, finally jumping into the conversation. It Bruce had been any less observative, he would have missed the death glare Janet had subtly sent her husband. "Keep those kids out of trouble and we won't have nearly so many delinquents, right?"

"Actually, Mr. Drake, it really is my attempt to help kids get a chance to properly be kids. Preventing delinquency is hardly the cause, and children being bored is only a small percentage of why so many turn to crime," Bruce informed the other CEO.

"Of course, you're right, Bruce," Janet stepped in for damage control, "In fact, the new Recreation Center wouldn't even just be for the middle and lower classes, right? With as much as you're raking in for the donations, it sounds like it would even be a place I wouldn't mind our own son, Timothy, spending his time at. Like a nice little bridge among the youth of Gotham."

"You have a son?" Bruce asked, vaguely remember this small factoid about the Drakes.

"Yes, in fact, he's right over there, by the food," Janet informed Bruce as she pointed to a young man standing a few feet away, filling a small plate with finger food. Bruce felt his jaw drop for a brief moment before catching himself and giving his signature 'Brucie' grin.

"I see, maybe you should introduce me to young Mr. Timothy?" Bruce suggested. Janet's eyes lit up at the prospect and immediately called her son over.

"Tim, Tim-dear, our host would like to get to know you some." As Janet spoke the words, Bruce watched as Tim grew tense all over and slowly turned to meet eyes with the head of the manor himself. Instantly Bruce knew two things were fact. One; Timothy Drake was definitely the young boy who saved him a week ago. Two; Timothy definitely knew Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Bruce could see the signs that Tim gulped just before the boy started to shuffle forward. Just as Bruce remembered the boy was small and seemed to be trying to make himself smaller in the presence of Bruce. He had tried to stop just behind his mother, only for Janet to gently guide him forward with an arm around his shoulders. The tension in his shoulder made Bruce want to frown. Tim wasn't used to be touched, even by his own mother.

"It's nice to meet you, Timothy," Bruce encouraged the boy to speak.

"I-it's an honor to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Tim replied. His voice was weak and if it wasn't for their first meeting in the wear house, Bruce wouldn't have thought the child capable of being assertive. Thankfully he did get a glimpse of what this kid could be if brought out of his shell, and he was starting to get excited by the prospect of helping him do so.

"You know, Tim, your mother and I were just talking about the new Youth Center and she mentioned her hopes that it would be a good place for you to spend your free time around as well," Bruce relayed part of the conversation. Tim gave a nervous glance to his mother before looking back to Bruce.

"We- Ma- I- I hope so too?" Tim seemed at a complete loss for what to say and his stuttering had earned him an exasperated look from Janet. Controlling mother with high standards. Poor lad.

"Well, I just had a thought," Bruce began, "I'm a bit on the graying side of things when it comes to what young people consider fun these days. And I was beginning to worry over what I should do to make sure I didn't build a boring Recreation Center." The Drakes all perked up, each seeming to have an idea where Bruce was going with this. "I think maybe it might be wise for me to take a young intern under my wing to help coordinate the project. What do you say?"

There was a stunned silence before Janet broke into a wide grin. "That would be perfect. Our little Timmy here is actually quite the little genius, and he has all sorts of friends he can get ideas from! Isn't that right Tim?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Tim was completely bewildered and already seemed to be breathless.

"Then it's settled. Come by my office after school tomorrow and we can get started. Deal?" Bruce asked.

Tim looked Bruce over, scrutinizing every inch of him as if to see if it was a trick. Once Tim seemed to see Bruce was completely genuine about the offer, he broke into a large, childish grin. "Deal!"

And that was the beginning of the end for the unfortunate boy known as Tim Drake.


	6. Bound With Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Kidnapping, mentions of Torture, Violent outbursts, PTSD symptoms, Family Rejection, Split personalities, almost major character death. Essentially: Damian was the Worst Big Brother before he learned to be a Good Big Brother.
> 
> We see a little of what happened to Tim that changed him so drastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU: (Top is current: Bottom is flashback)
> 
> Dick-11 Cassandra-15 Jason-16 Tim-18 Stephanie-18 Damian-24  
___  
Tim-12 Damian-18 Stephanie-13

When he came to, Shadowbat didn't even have to open his eyes to know just how disadvantageous the situation was. There was enough dust in the air to choke a worm, he was lying flat on his back, and there was a pounding in his head that seemed to be keeping in time with his heart. He took a second to try and remember what had just happened a moment before he blacked out. Shadowbat remembered sneaking into the compound, finding Luthor's hard drive, setting the virus, then there was an alarm, flying bullets, worried Spoiler over the com, explosion, and then the building collapsed around Shadowbat.

"Hey, Shadow, are you responsive? You're breathing's changed, but I need you to say something." Oh yeah, how could Damian forget? He had run into Timothy along the way.

"I'm alert," Shadowbat groundout. As he spoke, his head pounded a little harder. He opened an eye to see that Timothy had removed the hideous helmet that he insisted on calling his 'hood'. He had run into Red Hood as the heroic rouge (or would it be villainous hero?) had just set a few charges of C4 in the upper floors, and was trying to leave before he got caught up in the blast. Apparently, they both had the idea to go after Luthor's underground weapon's trade just off Gotham port. Unfortunately, as they both refuse to talk to each other more than they deem necessary, they didn't tell the other of their plans. Thus, Timothy had to drag Damian just outside of the blast radius of the c4 down the stairwell, because his earlier planned escape route was full of gun shooting minions that Damian had ruffled up.

"The stairwell is completely caved in, we're lucky we weren't crushed- hey lay down, you idiot! You have a head wound! It could be a concussion," Timothy growled at the older Bat. Damian just gave him a look and Tim scoffed and sneered. "Well, forget then. There was about as much as I'm willing to worry about you. If you don't care then neither do I."

"I'm more concerned with you," Damian changed the topic, "You didn't sustain any injury, did you?"

"Pfft, like you actually care," Tim scoffed again and leaned back against the rubble.

"I do care, actually. Now, status report, have you sustained any injuries?"

"Screw you."

"Fine, then I guess I don't care!"

"See? Told you."

"Of for the love of-!" Damian threw his hands in the air and gave up. The two feel into an uncomfortable silence for a bit after that. Timothy seemed to be trying to find a way out of there while Damian fiddled with his GPS. A small part of him bitterly remembered once getting on Timothy's case for relying too much on technology. Back when he wasn't Timothy, but 'Drake'.

Suddenly, breaking the silence and subsequently his self-pitty-party, Damian's earpiece came to life and Stephanie's panicked voice cried out to him.

"Shadowbat! Can you hear me?" It was loud and startling, causing Damian to flinch a little and thus snapping Timothy's attention to him.

Rolling his eyes, Damian put a finger to his ear as a sign to Red Hood that he was speaking to someone on his com. "I'm here, and you're loud."

"Thank God!" Stephanie sighed in relief and Damian could hear her typing on the Batcomputer. Brown had injured herself just a few days ago and was currently grounded to the cave until her leg was fully healed. Which left Spoiler stuck in the cave and unable to help. "I need a status report, now. The building just exploded and you suddenly switched to a different channel. Do you know how scary it is to hear a big 'boom' and then suddenly static? The answer is: very!"

"I can imagine. I ran into Red Hood trying to get out. Seems he had a different plan to get rid of Luthor." As Damian spoke, Timothy threw a dark glare over at him. Damian ignored him and sat against a heavily damaged concrete wall. Seriously, was Red Hood trying to take out the building or the block? "I may have a slight concussion, Hood seems unharmed, we're trapped underground, and I cannot stress enough how little time we may have left before the situation gets dire."

"Cause you and Hood will kill each other?" Stephanie guessed.

"Because we are two fully grown men in a small, enclosed space with limited air," Damian corrected.

"You mean because we'll likely kill each other?" Timothy added his two cents. Damian shot him a mild glare. He knew full well that the two couldn't hear each other and it was more and more obvious that they shared a brain. Damian just wished that they would stop proving it every chance they had, especially when there was no way they could tell that they were doing it!

"I'll get ahold of Batman and Robin," Stephanie assured him.

"Good. Keep me informed," Damian instructed before turning to Timothy. "Rescue is on the way."

"What's their ETA?" Timothy asked.

"No clue," Damian admitted. Timothy huffed before he slammed himself back against the opposite wall as Damian and slid down.

"Just great. A nice little reunion with Daddy Bats, just what I needed today," Timothy growled out.

Damian raised a brow at that. "You didn't seem to mind it a month ago when you came to help Robin with his homework."

Timothy scoffed, "That wasn't about Batman. It was about Robin. If you don't remember, I hardly acknowledged B."

Damian did think back on it. Timothy was right, not once did he see his younger brother even so much as glance at his father. Timothy probably did that so Richard wouldn't see Timothy's reflexive glare that he obtained whenever Father was in his line of sight.

Watching said younger brother, Damian couldn't help but frown. Now that a new silence had begun, and the immediate threat of having to deal with Batman was upon him, Timothy had begun to murmur to himself. It wasn't an uncommon sight, but a very unwelcome one. And one that Damian knew was pretty much his fault. Seeing the habitual reflex when faced with a stressful environment, it made Damian's stomach drop and sent him back in time to when he first met the man sitting across from him.

* * *

Damian was livid. He drove up to the manor's gravel drive in his motorcycle with such a fury that he purposefully sent rocks skitting when he came to a stop. He barely even managed to get his helmet off by the time he was pounding on the door. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now, but like hell was he going to miss his chance to punch something by just striding on in. Even if he was only 'punching' a solid wood door.

When the door swung open Damian was face to face with a disgruntled Pennyworth. For once, Damian didn't care how upset the butler was, he was going to demand answers from his father about the abomination he had just seen on TV. Therefore, not caring how many rules of etiquette he was breaking, the young man made to stomp past Pennyworth toward the study. He stopped short when he caught a glimpse of someone at the top of the staircase. The damning evidence of his father's most recent betrayal.

"Who is that?!" Damian demanded, shoving a pointed finger up toward a young boy. A boy that had the same dark hair and light eyes as Damian's father.

"Master Damian, I really must implore you to calm yourself. Master Bruce will be up shortly and I would be delighted to-"

"Silence! I didn't ask about my father! I asked about that _thing_ up there!" Damian shouted at the top of his lungs, making sure to certain words. He wanted that boy to know how unwelcome he truly was. He wanted to make certain that the vermin knew that Bruce Wayne already had a son, a _true_ son.

"Master Timothy will be staying with us indefinitely while the situation with his parents is being settled," Pennyworth tried once more to talk Damian down from his tantrum. It wasn't working. Damian was purposefully being difficult because he didn't _want_ to be talked down. He wanted his father to apologize for the mistreatment, not go shopping for a new, more obedient son! He wanted to be recognized by his father with pride, not as a replaceable unit in his messed up life.

Yet, here Damian was, glaring death at the very proof he needed to know that his father never really loved, or cared for him. He might have fallen for the lie once, but now that he was disillusioned he was going to make certain that the boy before him would not be as mistaken. If Bruce Wayne couldn't be bothered to care for his own true heir and only blood son, then this riffraff was better left on the shelf. Damian proceeded to exhaust his vocabulary to let the trash know exactly that.

Pennyworth had tried to get Damian to stop. Even Damian's father had tried to intervene when he had finally emerged from his cave. Nothing was preventing Damian's malicious words from slicing into the boy except the failures of his own imagination when he had officially run out of things to say. The boy was in tears, and Damian made sure to comment on that too before he stormed out, and sped off into the night.

A couple of weeks passed. Drake - as Damian had come to call the interloper - lost his parents during the event that led to him staying in Wayne Manor. There was a buzz about Gotham whether Bruce was going to adopt Timothy Drake or not. Damian's father had to make a public statement that he couldn't, Drake's father was still alive, though in a coma. Drake tried to reach out to Damian and make peace during this same time. Damian responded with scathing words and some _very_ unnecessary remarks about the boy's parents. Drake never tried to approach him again.

A couple of months past and all interaction between the two were left in costume with a chaperone. Even Batgirl, a moniker held by Stephanie Brown at the time, knew better than to leave the two in a room alone together. Damian hated watching the other's interact with the 'new Nightling'. His father seemed to actually _talk_ to the boy in a way that he never did with Damian. Brown seemed utterly smitten with the boy, which while it made sense with them being the same age, felt like she was choosing the usurper over the original! She was one of his closest friends and yet she was conversing much more smoothly with the younger boy than she and Damian ever did.

A few years later, and Damian finally screws up. Batman was off-world with the Justice League, leaving Gotham City to Shadowbat, Batgirl, and Nightling. The three split up for the night, each taking a controlled portion of the city to patrol and watch after. Shadowbat's area was quiet. Not so much as a mugging to occupy him. Batgirl had a jewelry store break-in, three muggings, and a bar brawl to break up. Nightling was having a similar night as Shadowbat at first until he called over the com about what he first perceived as a small riot. Later he corrected himself to say it was a gang assault on a woman. Then there was a request for back up as the gang itself had called reinforcements came to the gang's aid. Batgirl was still in the middle of pacifying the brawl and deferred Nightling's request to the eldest.

Shadowbat claimed to be busy.

He was sitting on a roof watching the empty street in front of a random bank and he claimed he was too busy. He could have easily gone to Nightling's aid. He could have easily helped the boy and taken a dangerous gang off the streets. Maybe he and Nightling might have gotten along a little better by the end of it. Maybe Damian would have used the night as an example as to why the boy was inadequate as a hero. There were too many 'maybe's. What actually happened was that Nightling went missing.

It took six months of constantly searching, and even more estrangement from not only his father but the girl he had come to think of as a little sister, before they were able to find any clues as to where Timothy went. It wasn't good news. Everything pointed to the Joker. It was only when they were looking for the Joker that they were even able to find clues about Timothy. The more the picture came together, the worse Damian felt. Being held prisoner by the Joker was something Damian wouldn't have wished upon his worst enemy. Yet, he damned his own brother to such a fate. His simple act of rejection came with tremendously disastrous consequences.

The three older heroes managed to locate Joker's hideout. They had split up for a time while searching for any signs of Joker or Timothy. Later Damian's father told them about the disturbing video Joker made him watch of Timothy's torture. Joker bragged at having captured one of the Bat's little birds, at how he was able to hold the bird for 183 days, and break him in 128. Joker knew of Batman's identity after having tortured a thirteen-year-old boy for little over four months straight.

When the three finally converged in a 'living room' made up in the middle of the abandoned studio with props and set walls, they were greeted by Harley Quinn and her Puddin', Joker. The bats demanded to know what they had done with Nightling, but that only launched the two clowns into a prepared monolog about wanting to start a family of their own. How Harley didn't want to get pregnant and their doubt that there would be any adoption agency dumb enough to give two criminally psychotic lunatics a child. The pieces fell together into a picture none of the bats wanted to face. They weren't given a choice when Harley Quinn and Joker finally brought out their little 'Joker Jr', JJ for short.

It was Timothy, strapped to a gurney, dead eyes, pale skin, grotesquely stretched smile. Batgirl already had tears down her face, Batman was stone statue still, and Shadowbat nearly vomited. He did this. Yes, it was Joker that actually committed the crime, but it was Shadowbat who allowed it.

Harley took advantage of their shock and shot a gaudily designed bola out of the vacuum she had been pretending to clean with, effectively tying them together for the moment. With the heroes tied up, Joker began to laugh and jeer.

"Oh no! Batman and his friends are captured!" Joker gasped. "This may spell the end for them. That is unless someone comes to their aid!" With that Joker pressed a button on the gurney, undoing all the straps that held JJ to the table. "Oh dear me! It looks like JJ has gotten loose! Surely he will jump at the chance to save Batman and co!" JJ did jump. The little Joker look-alike began to giggle something horrifying and started to hop from one foot to the other, throwing his arms in the air repeatedly as he did so. Joker and Harley just smiled on like a pair of proud parents as their little boy danced and played.

"Come now, JJ!" Joker called to his 'son', "Why don't you help Papa Joker? It'll be a nice little 'father/son' bonding time!" JJ stopped dancing and looked over to Joker as if to assess the offer. Not once did the painful grin slip from his face. Deciding on joining his 'Papa Joker', JJ gave a giggle and dashed over to Joker with his arms out. The entire display played out like a parody of an actual 'father/son' relationship. Like bad theater. "That's my boy, JJ!"

While the scene played before them, and Harley Quinn was distracted by her 'dream family', the three heroes had all discreetly cut away at their bonds. As soon as the rope tying them together was weak enough, they broke away and attacked. Shadowbat and Batgirl both took to Harley, having each learned not to get in the middle of a fight between Batman and Joker a long time ago.

As for Batman, He had to not only deal with Joker but with JJ as well. It was perturbing as Joker had put a gun in JJ's hands and aimed the boy's arms straight at Batman. Instantly, JJ pulled the trigger, causing Batman to falter his steps. All that came from the barrel was a tiny flag with the word 'bang'. The misdirection worked as Joker had already launched himself at Batman and was wailing on him, having cheated his way into the advantage.

Shadowbat and Batgirl managed to get Harley down and restrained just in time to see JJ re-aim the gun at the two fighting men. It was in slow motion for Damian as he watched Timothy lift the gun and point it straight at Batman. The look of seer anguish that could be seen behind the maddened eyes will forever be branded to Damian's brain. The look Timothy had, unable to stop grinning despite the excruciating pain that was evident in all his other features, conveyed too loudly the fight going on in his mind. Damian could see a weakened, but stubborn, part of Timothy still remained and refused to shoot his mentor. The stronger, and insane part of JJ wasn't making it easy for the boy to stop himself and in the end, it seemed the two personalities compromised.

And JJ shot Joker.

There was a pause in everyone's movements. Joker, stunned, looked down to see the sharp steak of the joke-flag sticking out of his chest. With a startled chuckle, the clown's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he pitched forward. No one caught him. No one tried. They just let his body fall gracelessly to the floor. It wasn't until they heard the clatter of the gun that any of them could move. Timothy fell to his knees, laughing and sobbing in ways that _sounded_ painful. Stephanie quickly made her way to his side, nearly bumping into Damian's father as Batman tried to stop the Joker from bleeding out. A first he thought it was a sign of how messed up his father's priorities were, but once he took a second to think it over, he understood. Batman wasn't trying to save the Joker, Bruce Wayne was trying to save the innocence of his son. None of them wanted Timothy to be a murderer. None of them wanted to let Joker turn their Timothy into a murderer. Even if it meant saving that rotten bastard's life.

Damian was still. He watched as his father and pseudo-sister cleaned up his mess. Joker went to the hospital under heavy sedation. Harley went straight to Arkham, screaming for her Puddin' the entire way. Batman, Batgirl, and Shadowbat took their missing bird home. That should have been the end of it.

It wasn't. JJ was still there, and he was still stronger than Timothy. Slowly, they were able to get him to settle down. One thing they learned immediately was never let Damian in the boy's line of sight. Pennyworth had just given the recovering teen his dinner when Damian tried to approach him. Damian didn't get past the doorway before the teen was in a fit. Everything that was within his reach was thrown, there was screaming, crying, and laughter. It was from then on made a rule that Damian wasn't allowed anywhere near Timothy.

That wasn't all. Father seemed to be a trigger for the boy as well. However, while Damian incited the boy to attack, Father would cause the boy to self-harm. It was nearly systematic the way it would happen too; as if Joker purposefully programmed it into Timothy's head during the months he was captured. The ways Timothy would self-harm weren't small, either. It was as if Joker wanted Nightling to kill himself if he was ever left alone with Batman. Bandages and stitches lined Timothy's forearms and thighs.

Not even two weeks after getting their Nightling back, the Bat-family had to face the grim reality. Timothy needed professional help. With that, they begrudgingly check Timothy into Arkham.

Stephanie and Pennyworth went to visit Timothy every chance they could. In the end, it only lasted another month before Timothy managed to swipe enough opioids to overdose. The staff couldn't explain it. The Bats figured it was his Nightling training and desperation to 'get rid' of JJ.

* * *

That seemed the end for Timothy. Damian frowned as he looked over the young man across from him. The little brother he rejected, sacrificed, and then lost. The genius who had his mind ripped apart by three evil men. Damian included himself in that list. Timothy seemed to sense the older man staring at him as he stopped muttering to himself and glared back.

"What?!" He snapped.

"Nothing, not really," Damian responded, "Just remembering-" Damian let himself trail off there. This was a dangerous subject with Timothy, and he knew it full well. Still, he felt drawn to it, if only to break the deafening silence.

"Well, stop it," Timothy growled, "There's nothing that needs remembering."

"Funny, you're usually the one who brings up the past the most," Damian huffed. Timothy's glare intensified, but he otherwise backed down. Damian could see the shifting in his eyes as if there was a conversation being held that Damian couldn't hear. It wouldn't surprise him. By all rights, Timothy should be dead. Yet he beat every odd and was now the broken man before him.

"What now!" Timothy's sudden wail yanked Damian out of his thought.

"Nothing!" Damian defended himself.

"No, there's something! You're pulling that 'pity' face you get when you remember how big of an ass you were back then," Timothy screamed at him. His eyes were alight with fury. "Oh the things you 'should' have done differently, the things you 'should' have said, the gestures you 'should' have made. Maybe if you were this perfect big brother that you're trying to be for Jay or Dick, I wouldn't have come out so f#&*ed up!" This was tail-spinning toward an extremely bad place faster than Damian could navigate out of it.

"Is it not true?" Damian asked. Timothy was shaking now as his eyes never left Damian's. There was a beat of silence before Damian remembered that silence was bad when Timothy got like this. It gave 'JJ' time to twist the younger man's thoughts. "I have my regrets. There is no denying that. However, I am fully aware that I cannot undo the damage I have done. I cannot 'fix' this. All I _can_ do is learn from it and do right by Jason and Richard." Yes, he was aware that he was using names in the field, but with how Timothy was behaving, it was necessary to remind his younger brother that he no longer distanced himself from others with the same subtle slight as he used to.

"Yeah, learn from the screw-up," Timothy muttered darkly as he seemed to settle back down. He was obviously still furious, but it seemed Damian had somehow navigated his way around Timothy's mood swings. He then made the mistake of sighing in relief at the sight of Timothy backing down. Suddenly Red Hood was on him again.

The unhinged brother had thrown himself forward, switchblade exposed in his right hand, knife pressed to Damian's throat, all within the moment of Damian having sighed. "You really want to f**king go?"

"What the- Get a hold of yourself!" Damian cried out.

"Come on, 'Big Bro'. Say what you're thinking already." Damian' had to fight not to gulp. Red Hood's mouth was in a dark, twisted smile. A sure sign that Timothy was steadily slipping into JJ.

"Timothy, you need to reevaluate what you're doing," Damian tried to get Hood to relax again by using his given name. It didn't help. Hood just pressed the knife harder into the side of Damian's neck.

"Say it!" Hood demanded, "You wish I had stayed dead! Just say it!" _So that's where JJ took his brother's thoughts_.

"I can't," Damian replied defiantly, "It wouldn't be true."

"Shut up! We both know you hated me from the very start! You saw that I was too weak! You knew I was worthless the moment you set your eyes on me!" With each word, Tim's smile grew, as did the pain in his eyes, which began to fill with tears. "You knew I couldn't keep a secret, you knew I was a waste of Bruce's time and that I would only betray the family. Well, I did, and now you wish I had really died back then!"

"No. It was a relief to find out that you weren't dead. I wish you hadn't been kidnapped by my grandfather in the first place," Damian tried to correct his younger brother.

"Shut- just- j- just shut up!" Tears were now slipping from Timothy's eyes and down his red mask and his voice was wavering. "You- you hate me. Bruce loathes me. Dick's afraid of me. Jason- Jay-, he, he-" Damian knew Timothy couldn't find anything to say about Jason. The third of Bruce Wayne's sons had hero-worshipped Timothy all the way back to when the second Nightling had first appeared in the silver cape. It was Jason who brought Timothy back to the family all those years ago. It was because of Jason that Timothy stayed.

"Jason adores you," Damian filled in the blank for Timothy. Timothy, for his part, seemed lost at the very concept that someone could 'adore' him. "Yes, Richard is intimidated by you, by me too. Even Pennyworth gets to him from time to time, he's a timid child - when he's not being boisterously obnoxious and impetuous." Really, Richard had two settings for everyone for the first twenty hours he spent with them. After that, there was no getting him to think twice before doing something outrageously foolhardy and Damian was beginning to miss the days when just being in the same room as the kid made Richard quiet.

"And you?" Timothy challenged. "Here's where you tell me about how you really love me and accept me and whatever else kind of crap that you can think up to try and incite warm-fuzzies, right?"

"I'm impressed by you," Damian said instead. That caught Timothy off guard.

"What?"

"I'm impressed. Everything you've gone through, everything you've endured. Not once did you blame someone who didn't deserve it. Not Pennyworth, not Jason, nor Richard. Not a single one of the girls. You never let your - honestly rather justified - anger go too far. Even when you did attack Father and me." Damian watched as slowly, a bit more clarity came back to Timothy's features. "I'm impressed by the skills you've honed, you're methodical nature, and your ability to lead even those who claim they won't trust you. You've achieved so much despite all your hurt it's inspiring." As Damian finished speaking he could see the flitting of Timothy's eyes as he fought his own internal battle.

Finally deeming it time to take the risk, Damian slowly lifted his hand to gently grab the one holding the knife to his throat. "That's why I know, if you take a second to think about it, you'll decide against killing me." Timothy's eyes bulged and snapped toward his right hand.

Immediately, as if the switch-blade had suddenly burned him, Timothy dropped the knife with a gasp and threw himself back toward the other wall. The entire time staring at his hand as if it weren't his own. JJ, most likely. Damian watched as Timothy began to hyperventilate, tears streaming freely from his eyes as he held his hand away from him. He even held his left hand tightly in a vice grip around the offending appendage as if his right hand was about to attack him next.

Not knowing what else to do, and probably having his mild concussion to think for his foolishness, Damian moved quickly. Before he even realized what he was doing, he took Timothy's right hand in his own and wrapped the other around his younger brother's shoulders. "Breathe, Tim. Breathe," he instructed.

Timothy's breath hitched at being called 'Tim' by Damian, and possibly by reflex, his right hand gripped Damian's tight. "Get off of me! Leave me the hell alone!" Timothy shouted. Despite saying this, however, Timothy's other arm snaked around Damian's back, holding the older brother in place.

They sat like that for a while. Timothy kept sobbing, and cursing, demanding Damian let him go, holding tightly to the other the entire time. Damian endured the verbal onslaught and held Timothy close as his little brother bawled. Slowly he began to feel his legs shake from how he sat on his knees too long. Thankfully, Timothy calmed down before Damian's legs gave out.

When the vice grip around him fell away, Damian moved slowly to sit next to Timothy. Not close enough that they were touching anymore, but he could definitely feel the body heat from the younger man. Silence took over again, but for the first time, it was a tolerable one. Neither seemed to want to break it.

The option was taken from their hands when Shadowbat's com came to life in his ear. "Shadow?"

"Spoiler?" Damian acknowledged the young woman. "What's the news?"

"Robin and Batgirl are at your location, they're trying to dig you two out now. Nightling should be on his way," Stephanie informed him easily.

"And Batman?" Damian asked, wondering why he was left out of the report.

"Giving Red Hood some space," Stephanie replied. Damian chanced a glance over to Timothy. The younger man was looking away from him so Damian couldn't see his eyes, but he could see that Red Hood was trying to wipe away his face discreetly.

"Probably a good idea," Damian decided. Timothy didn't need to deal with their father in the state he was in at the moment.

"How's your status? Try to kill each other yet?" Stephanie asked with a light-hearted tone. However, Damian could easily hear the legitimate worry underneath. She's not an idiot. She knows the kind of damage done to Timothy.

"Everything's fine here. A screaming match, so we're probably low on air," Damian admitted partially. She didn't need to know about the knife. It didn't even break skin. After that Stephanie left the two alone again. A few minutes later they could hear voices and scrapping from above them as the three youngest of the family dug their older brothers out.

"Hey," Timothy called over to Damian.

"Yes?"

"Don't tell them about any of this." Damian looked over to Timothy to see his younger brother glaring at the opposite wall.

"What part? Nothing happened," Damian 'reminded' Timothy. "We screamed insults at each other for a bit and then sat in uncomfortable silence." Timothy's shoulders relaxed at that and nothing else was said. They didn't need to acknowledge it. There was no point.

Fresh air started to gust through the small room and Damian looked up to see Robin's grinning face greeting the two. "Need unearthing?"

"You're late," Damian gruffed before standing up. As he moved toward the hole his younger siblings made, he saw Timothy put his helmet back on. There was a pain in his chest in the realization that this didn't change a single thing between the two of them. Timothy would never trust Damian. He will always resent Both Damian and his father. But this time, this one time, Damian finally got to do right by Timothy. By Tim.

The rest played out like it had so many times in the past couple of years. Robin boisterously recanted the tale of how he and the others saved the day. Nightling was sure to interject whenever he felt it was necessary to remind everyone that he was the real brains and skill of the outfit, not to mention prove he was the better story-teller. Batgirl, a moniker now held by their legal sister Cassandra Cain, simply stood back as her brothers sang their own praises, nodding along with the story supportively. After that, Shadowbat led the younger bats and birds back to the cave, while Red Hood made his way back to the Bowery.

Only Jason said Good-bye. Tim didn't even acknowledge it.

"Why do you say 'bye'? He never responds?" Robin asked Nightling.

Nightling shrugged, "because he needs me to."

Batgirl just nodded her head in agreement.

And like that, the night was over. Nothing had changed. No new lessons had been learned. No redemption was earned. But finally a proper memory, a fundamental memory, was made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit more aggressive than the rest. I'm sorry if this bothered anyone, if I hear enough stink on it, I may add these tags to the over-all fic.


	7. There IS No JJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn the rest of how Tim came to be the 'Red Hood' of this story. And we meet Ra's Al Ghul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Jason-15 Tim-17 Damian-23

Ra's was sitting by the grand fireplace, calmly sipping a cup of tea as he listened to his guards. They were trying to fight off an intruder just outside of his chambers. The fools were shouting about, forgetting they were supposed to be ninja and thus die in silence. How fortunate for them that the intruder had no intention to kill a single one of them.

No, Red Hood didn't kill. His methods were far more sinister. Pain was his tool of choice. Understandable, considering that it was through pain he was forged. Death was something that had been mercilessly denied the young man. He was not one to offer it to those who dared cross him. In a way, Ra's respected that.

Now the doors to his chamber opened. Red Hood strode into the room and closed the door behind him in a way that would almost insist the room actually belonged to him. It was a striking contrast to the violent sounds of battle that alerted Ra's to the boy's visit. Something only Timothy Drake-Wayne could get away with. And the boy knew it.

Without so much as a hint of hesitation, Timothy made his way to the wing-backed chair on the other side of the in-table from Ra's and sat himself down. There was a bit of wiggling in place as the vigilante made a show of getting comfortable before he then reached up and removed his helmet. From the dents and gashes in the piece of armor Ra's had to wonder if Timothy was even bothering to try and dodge attacks aimed at his head. He suspected he already answered his own question.

"Detective," Ra's greeted. The young man had long since earned the title.

"Ra's," Timothy greeted back.

"May I ask what brings this unexpected visit?" It wouldn't be the first time Timothy came to the League of Assassins for information, or even for a random chest match. Really Ra's saw a clearer second-generation Batman in Red Hood than he did in his own Grandson.

Timothy seemed to think about how he wanted to phrase his request. It was one of those things that proved the boy's intelligence. He knew how he said things mattered even more than what it was he had to say. "I suppose you could say I felt sentimental."

This took Ra's by surprise, and he let it show with a raise of his brow. "Oh?"

"I've been thinking a lot about my past. How my life came to this point," Timothy explained. "Meeting Bruce, suffering your grandson, being brain-washed by Joker-"

Timothy trailed off and Ra's faced him to see Timothy was looking at him with a seriousness that told Ra's where the boy was going with this. "I see."

"Ra's, I think it's time we talked about my missing memories," Timothy demanded.

"I suppose it is," Ra's agreed. It wasn't a conversation he had been avoiding. In fact, it was Timothy who had been afraid. A closely guarded secret that Ra's, Talia, and Timothy had managed to keep to themselves, was the fact that between a random day in Arkham Asylum and a random day in his training with the League of Assassins was utter darkness for him.

"You said you weren't surprised," Tim started in on it. "When I was in the Asylum I was constantly being attacked by voices and had trouble controlling my own actions. Blacking out and waking up in a straight jacket because I apparently attacked an orderly or few. Next thing I remember is coming back to myself in the middle of sparing with Prudence."

"Yes, and after having come back to yourself the voices had dulled and you were more in control of yourself," Ra's finished for him. "I found it particularly endearing that you tried to keep the realization to yourself."

"How." Timothy's voice was curt and stoic, or at least attempted to be. "How did I get from point A to point B in this story Ra's. What happened during that time I was out?"

"It's been over a year, Detective, what has changed your mind now? You cannot expect me to believe it to be mere nostalgia?" Ra's gave a suspicious look to the boy.

"You already know the reason," Timothy gave a mild glare back to Ra's, "And if by some miracle you don't, then I don't believe I should tell you."

"I'm hardly 'All-knowing', Timothy, though I must say the implication is flattering." Ra's smirked over at the boy. "I learn my secrets from informants all around. You yourself have proven to be a reliable source of information from time to time."

"When I'm willing to share. This isn't one of those times, Ra's," Timothy insisted. "Now, let's start from the beginning. I was in Arkham,-"

Timothy trailed off on purpose so that Ra's could start where he was leaving off. Well, if the boy was going to be so considerate, then why not indulge him?

"Alright, you were in the middle of drooling over yourself and I sent in one of my own to pose as an orderly at that place of madness," Ra's began. "Following my orders, they gave you an injection of Tetrodatropa; an ingenious concoction that utilizes both the Atropa belladonna plant and the tetrodotoxin of the puffer to mimic a death of opioid overdose. The main difference between the two being that with a controlled dosage, Tetrodatropa won't kill the one affected."

Tim frowned and looked to be in deep thought for a moment. Ra's knew he was going back over everything he knew of the two poisons. "But you'd still need an antidote or some type of catalyst to wake the victim up."

Ra's couldn't help but smirk. Leave it to the young Detective to catch on to that part. "And I will be keeping the antidote's secret to myself. It's hardly important to the story any-"

"Active Carbon," Timothy interrupted Ra's. Ra's had to snap his attention back to the boy. Timothy gave him a smug look after having figured out the rather simple answer.

"Impressive, but as I was saying, not relevant to your question, now is it?" That silenced the boy well enough and Ra's got back to it. "After the incompetent doctors of the Asylum misdiagnosed you with opioid overdose, and then prematurely announced your death, I had those same agents bring your body here where I woke you. You were still a mostly maddened state of mind. Talia and I took you in as an almost pet project. We continued your training that your mentor had started and looked after your growth. This much you already knew. What you never cared to remember, however, was the mental therapy that was needed to get you back to what sanity we could manage."

Timothy shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Joker's torture lead to my mind creating a whole other personality that was capable of doing what he wanted. To be a son for a madman. That's not something a bit of therapy can fix. You had to have done something, else." Timothy looked up at Ra's with a scrutinizing look. "It's that something else that I didn't particularly want to know about."

"It's true. Our methods of putting you back together were, unorthodox. They still worked when nothing else would," Ra's reminded Timothy. Timothy gave him a hard look. Ra's gave it back. He knew that it wasn't he that Timothy was trying to fight in this conversation, it was his own morals. Before, Timothy was fully aware that the only way for a split personality to be repaired in the few months that Ra's had the boy, magic would have had to be involved. And Ra's did not have any qualms about dark magic, so long as it had the desired effect.

"Ra's. How long did you wait to throw me into the pit?" Timothy's voice was steady, but his gaze wandered Ra's' face. It was as if he was hoping he was wrong. But he wasn't.

"I didn't." Timothy's eyes found the rug at the confession. His features morphed into a furious expression as he mulled over the implications.

"The real question, Detective, is why you continue to allow your family to believe the other personality still lives?" Ra's raised a brow as the boy searched the floor for his response.

"Because it's easier," Timothy explained, "In this messed up family, it's easier to understand a second, more murderous personality than it is to understand the more complex reality." Ra's didn't need to ask about that 'complex reality'. In a rather pathetic way, Timothy was right. Not one of the others even entertained the thought that their damaged bird might have something as typical as 'PTSD' in place of something so bizarre as 'Multiple Personality Disorder'. With the world Batman had immersed himself, he was now unfortunately trained to go to the extreme instead of the simplistic answers.

"I see." The two then fell into silence again. Timothy's question was answered, for the most part. He already knew that Ra's only tried to help him in order to use him as leverage against Batman, which failed when Timothy proved to be too clever for Ra's to try and manipulate. Before he threw Timothy into the pit, the boy's dual personalities played off each other and prevented either from being manipulated by an outside individual.

"There was more than the pit, wasn't there?" Timothy finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," Ra's answered.

"I'm going to need to know what else had been done to me." The boy's voice was growing weaker, more uncertain.

"You need this, but do you want it?" Ra's inquired, already suspecting the answer. Timothy sighed but didn't reply. The young detective simply shifted back into his seat and looked to Ra's. From the look he gave, he had managed to reassure himself somehow and seemed more intent to learn what he came to find out than when he had first arrived. Ra's had to smile at that. Yet again, Timothy proved he wasn't the wasted investment Talia seemed to believe he was. "Very well."

* * *

Tim tried his best not to shake as he got on the plane to leave. He had stolen one of Batman's, not having had a better way to get to Ra's hideout. Of course, he had to fight his way out the same as he had to fight his way in. Ra's way of constantly testing him. And Bruce would say he was nothing like the immortal jerk.

Ra's had given him a lot to think about, things he really didn't want to but really didn't have much of a choice. He needed to know this, and he had run out of excuses for avoiding it. It didn't help that he had other heroes breathing down his neck about it. Dr. Fate, Zatara, Jason Blood, Raven, and even some villains; such as Cillian and Enchantress.

Of course, Tim wasn't one to just bend over for others when it suited them. No, the real reason Tim decided it was time, was because he now had a responsibility. He was now an older brother himself. If he wanted to do right by his new younger brother Jason, and not fall into the same or even worse trappings as Damian had, then it was his obligation to know just what kind of dangers his rehabilitation could eventually pose for his family.

Still, his motives didn't help cleanse the feeling of being a stranger in his own skin. Really, it was amazing how messed up his life had managed to become in the few short years since he met Bruce Wayne live and in person.

Really, how unlucky could a guy get?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really was in the air on what kind of relationship I wanted Tim and Ra's to have. If I wanted the same one as Ra's and Jason or the canon one that Tim and Ra's seemed to have in the comics. But when I sat down to think it over a bit, I decided that Ra's must think of himself as a fourth father to Tim, the first being Jack Drake, the second being Bruce Wayne, and the Third being Joker. Ra's sees himself as the completer of the group project that is Timothy Drake-Wayne, and therefore tends to be the closest to Tim in terms of emotional relativity. Isn't that sad?


	8. Convincing Disguises prt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick goes undercover.
> 
> This one is a two parter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Barb-9 Dick-11 Steph-18

"No, I'm not doing it!"

"Comm'on, Dick, do you really think you have a choice?" Stephanie sighed as she tightened the ropes holding the eleven-year-old in place.

"This is cruel and unusual torment!" Dick shouted as he tried to fight his restraints.

"Take it up with B, he's the one who made the plan," Steph pointed out as she grabbed his chin with a firm hand and brought the pencil up to Dick's eye with the other. "Now keep still or I'm going to end up poking your eye out, and look upwards."

"I get that I need to be unrecognizable, but why do I have to dress as a girl?" Dick whined as he did as he was instructed.

"Because we're infiltrating a beauty pageant," Stephanie reminded the boy.

"You're going, why can't you be the contestant?"

"Because the perp has been going after girls ages Thirteen and below." Steph finished with the eyeliner and moved to grab something else from the table behind her. "Close your eyes, not too tight."

"Then how about Barbara? She's almost done with her training, right? Can't she be the bait?" Dick could feel a brush gently tickling his closed eyelids as Steph colored them.

"First, she isn't done with her training. She won't be until sometime next year. Next, she's too young, she doesn't even look eleven. Lastly, why you would suggest we put a nine-year-old in a position to be kidnapped by a human trafficker? Shame. Shame on your family. Shame on your cow."

"It's 'dishonor on your cow'."

"That too." Steph stopped messing with his eyes and she began to rub something sticky and fruity smelling on his lips. "Look, no one will know but you, me, Damian, and Bruce. Alright?"

"Fine," Dick sighed as he waited for Stephanie to finish his transformation. When the woman was finished, Dick looked into the mirror and had an internal war with himself.

On one hand, once the wing was on and he actually made a really pretty girl. On the other hand, he was a boy and was therefore aspired to look as manly as he could at all times. Yes, he was well aware that there were plenty of boys that would have been excited to see themselves done up so girly. Good for them, let them have their fun. Dick just wasn't one of them.

"I'm traumatized!" Dick cried out.

"Don't cry! You'll mess up your makeup!" Stephanie smacked his shoulder. "Now let's get you into your outfit and get going."

The teenage Gotham Missy Beauty Pageant that year was being held in the Civic Center just downtown of the financial district. Each year they held it at a different location and security went on a rise as it never failed that at least one girl would disappear each year for the past sixteen years. In all that time, only three girls had been found and returned to their families. After they had already been sold in a sex trafficking ring and their 'owner's got sloppy about keeping tabs on their new 'dolls'.

Of course, the bat family had tried looking into it but never managed to get a good clue as to; whom the traffickers were, where they based their sells, and where they housed their 'stalk'. Damian had the idea to send someone in undercover back when Cass was thirteen. However the girl's inability to speak proved to be the downfall as she couldn't even get through the preliminaries. Back then she also had difficulty in toning down her killer grace that intimidated the judges.

This year Bruce decided to send Dick in as a last ditch effort before they just started tagging all the contestants with tracking devices, such as the one found in the false tooth in the back of Dick's mouth. So now Dick had to try and act 'flirty' while a bunch of strangers looked him up and down with scrutinizing looks all the while he was uncomfortably dressed in an outfit that misgendered him.

"Come on, Becca, try to look lively," Steph sighed at him, using his undercover name. Rebecca Jones went by the name Becca and was here with her older sister, Stacy Jones. Becca had a dream to be the next 'Missy Gotham'.

"I want to die," Dick whined and pouted.

"There's the spirit. Ours is booth fifteen." Stephanie lead Dick to a vanity at the end of the row where a bunch of girls were in various stages of undress. Dick tried to keep his eyes on the floor and his blush under control. Thankfully his skirt was poofy and hid any sort of proof of his actual gender, but it was still extremely uncomfortable trying to ignore the problem that any eleven-year-old boy in his position would have. Come on, there were, like, a ton of pretty girls, most of which were in nothing but their bras or panties, and he had to pretend that it was something he was used to!

The only reason he wasn't beat red was because his blood was working elsewhere.

"Kill me, Dear God," Dick muttered into his hands when one girl bent down in nothing but a petticoat.

"There is no God here," Steph muttered back darkly. "Now, sit down and let me touch up your makeup."

Dick kept his eyes to the ground from then on. He let Steph do whatever she wanted to his face, and was grateful that the few costume changes he was required to make they already tested to make certain wouldn't reveal too much while he changed into them. The first thing they had to do was the introductions and then a catwalk. Then after the first set of girls were sent home, the pageant would move on to the talent show. With over thirty girls trying to get past the preliminaries, Dick was hoping he'd get sent home with the half that wouldn't make it that far.

"Next up, Home-schooled through Gotham Public High, Becca Julie Jones!" The announcer was a gaudily decorated woman with an obnoxious voice.

Dick felt his stomach hit the floor as he made his way to the stage. He glanced behind himself to see Steph give him an enthusiastic thumbs up. He gave a small smile back at her before facing forward and glaring. He was going to kill Bruce when this was over.

"Hello there, Little Lady, so pretty, will you please introduce yourself in the mic please?" The woman asked from the side, gesturing to the mic on the stand in the smack dab middle of the stage.

"Um, hello, I'm Becca Jones, and I would like to be the next 'Missy Gotham'," Dick uttered shyly to the judges. He then glanced to the announcer lady to see her give him an encouraging nod and he took that to mean it was time for him to do his catwalk down the little mini stage that protruded from the larger stage. He tried to keep Steph's advice to 'float' and give a cute little curtsy at the turn around point. He felt absolutely ridiculous the whole time. When he made it back behind the stage Steph was at his side asking him how it was.

"I think I need to vomit."

"So that good, huh?"

"I looked stupid, why did you tell me to curtsy?"

"I bet it was cute! It was cute, wasn't it? Of course it was! Let's get you into the next outfit. It's even cuter when you curtsy in that one!" Steph, as unsympathetic as ever, lead the way back to their booth. As Steph helped him get into his costume change that he hoped he wouldn't need, a few more girls went out on the stage to do their introductions. Everything was going fine until the music was interrupted and the announcer called for a cleanup.

"Oh dear, it seems that nerves have gotten the better of little Amber Jean, I'm sorry dear girl, but hopefully you'll be up for it next year," the announcer all but explained, "Anyway, that was everyone, thankfully. While we get the stage cleaned up, the judges will be deliberating over who will be eliminated and who will move on to become the next 'Missy Gotham'!" There was cheering and the music started up again.

During the break, Stephanie got Dick a small drink of water, and while she was gone he couldn't help but watch as the announcer lady came backstage and check over everyone. She really was the picture of the word 'gaudy'. She had brilliant orange hair that curled and stood on top of her head 'Miss Frizzle' style. But she also wore so much blue eye-shadow it made her look like a clown. She also had no eyebrows and instead drew in two thin brown lines where her brows should have been. Her earrings and necklace matched, but they were both so large and clunky Dick didn't even notice what she could possibly be wearing around it. However, it wasn't the woman's fashion sense that made Dick curious, it was her gaze.

The announcer was looking around at all the girls with a look in her eye that looked like she was calculating and appraising. Sure, she could just be seeing who would be in the next part of the competition, or she could be gauging how much each girl would be worth in the market. Dick gulped and averted his eyes quickly when her eyes landed on him.

"Alright, I'm back with the water. We really should have brought water bottles, why didn't I think of it?" Steph came back talking to herself and handed Dick a small cup. Dick took it and took a sip, trying to not give Steph any more reason to keep smearing lip-gloss on his mouth. He glanced over to see the woman was gone. The music changed tempo and so he figured she was back on the stage. After a bit, he heard her speak.

"The wait is over! If I can have all the contestants out on the stage!"

"Alright, time to get into your line up!" Steph clapped her hands together as Dick set his cup down and tried not to trip over his own feet as he followed all the other girls out onto the floor. On the stage, the girls stood side by side in a single line that stretched the stage and faced total the oblivion that was the darkness of the unlit audience. The announcer lady stood to the side with her mic, allowing an undisrupted view of all the girls.

"Now then, for the results, if I call your name please step forward as you take your place in the primaries!" The confident girls all giggled under their breath while a few of the more self-conscious took shaky breaths. It was good to know he wasn't going to completely stick out like a sore thumb. "Alright; Mandy Adams, Ritta Bale, Flor Bontina, Danny Crane, Rainy Cruize, Sussie Eden, Gabriella George, Teressa Hail, Hanna Harp, Caddie Harp, Becca Jones, Georgia Noel, Denis Paul, Jessica Tall, and Hailey Yettz. Congratulations girls, you are officially in competition to become the next Teenage Missy Gotham!"

Dick stood between Caddie and Georgia and felt like he was going to faint. Some of the girls behind him were crying, some screaming in rage, Dick swore he even heard one girl cry out a very relieved 'thank God!' as she, along with the others were ushered off the stage.

"Oh no, I didn't think I'd actually get this far," Georgia muttered with tears in her eyes, Dick could see she looked about ready to throw up.

"Your own fault for signing up," Denis sneered from the other side of her.

"I didn't want to sign up, Mom made me sign up," Hanna murmured from the other side of Caddie.

"Try telling that to the girls who just went backstage," Caddie dared her as she gave a grateful wave to the judges, "They'll tear you apart and wear your skin into the next phase."

Dick gulped as he joined the other girls in waving and curtsying.

When backstage, Steph warped her arms around Dick in a tight hug and almost lifted him from the ground as she squeezed the life out of him.

"You did So great out there! Did you see half the girls that got through? They about vomited their guts they were scared! I didn't know you have a such a fierce look on you! You keep that look going you'll win this!"

"Ste-Stacy, wha-what look? What are you talking about?" Dick grunted out as he tried to pry the girl off. Stephanie let him go, though left a hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling over.

"You had this sultry, saucy, attitude giving look on your face during the lineup," Steph 'explained'.

"No, I didn't, I was just trying not to piss myself!" Dick denied.

"Then drink up that water and cross your legs, cause with a face like that, these girlies ain't gotta chance!" Steph's harsher accent broke through her normally high-class dictation.

"Calm yourself, Stacy, you're starting to sound like you're from the Bowery," Dick warned his 'sister' kindly. Steph put a hand to her mouth and had the decency to look ashamed.

The next four contests knocked out contestants in a strange order; the sportswear brought the group from 15 to 10- which Dick passed with a cheerleading outfit. Then

Then the next four knocked out two each; the talent show that Dick passed with gymnastics, the casual where Dick wore a pair of skinny jeans and a pink shirt, the themed event that Dick wore a cowgirl outfit. Having finished off his bit with finger guns and a wink, Dick sauntered backstage before he fell into his chair and almost started bawling.

"I don't wanna do this anymore! I wanna go play football or hockey, or just get into a brawl! I want to feel like a man again!" Dick whined. He felt Steph give the back of his head a chop with the side of her hand, hard.

"Stop complaining. You're doing this to save lives so shut up already!" She growled. Dick looked over his shoulder to see Stephanie glaring at him. "I have been understanding because I get that you're uncomfortable, but you're losing sight of why we are doing this and I'm getting like, really annoyed with you. So can it!"

"Y-yes ma'am," Dick whimpered.

"Look, all the girls who you've knocked out of the competition are all being watched closely in the audience or have headed home already with their guardians. If the trafficker is going to get a girl, they'll have to take one still in the competition. That is you, and three others at this very moment. So get into your evening gown, and I'm going to the bathroom. Try not to let the other girls out of your sight." With that, Stephanie stomped off toward the girl's rooms, leaving Dick alone to watch as Georgia, Rainy, and Flor all got ready for their next event. As Rainy dropped her mermaid theme dress, Dick's face when a brilliant red and he turned to face the wall as he got ready.

Dick quickly pulled his evening gown up; it was made to make him look like he had curves where no eleven-year-old, boy -OR- girl, would naturally have them. From what he was learning to understand, that was a president for beauty pageants. Remembering to keep count of how many girls were in the room, Dick chanced a glance back over to the other contestants. Three; good, they were all accounted for. Dick moved his gaze back to the wall and began to zip up. He got halfway up his back when his arm just wouldn't go any farther. He tried fruitlessly to make it move just one more inch before a stranger's hand gently took the zipper from him and finished pulling it up all the way for him. Thinking it was either one of the other girls being kind, or even Stephanie having come back from the bathroom, Dick went to turn and thank them. He didn't get a chance before a gloved hand was over his mouth.

Dick's eyes went wide and he went to claw and the hand, but the kidnapper was unphased. They started to pull him backward, out of the dressing room. That was when Dick saw as the last of the other girls left, not having noticed the kidnapping in the least. It was too practiced. This had to be their usual method. Wait until there are a small number of girls, the last one out of the dressing room was the one that didn't go home. Dick was both glad it wasn't one of the civilians and cursing his luck that he always ended up getting kidnapped or held hostage.

"Be a good girl now," the kidnapper spoke from behind him. He was taken through some empty halls and outside to a parked panel van. There were two other guys there walking over to help the first guy as they gently tied Dick's hands behind his back. That was something that actually surprised Dick, they were firm but gentle. Though it made a bit of sense, they wanted the girls to stay pretty, so the less bruising the more profit. Seeing no reason to actually fight, Dick let himself be manhandled into the van and sat tight as they tied him in.

"Well, aren't you a good girl. Very smart, don't be trouble for us now and things will be alright." Dick doubted that very much, but he knew the guy just wanted to 'reward' good behavior to make it all easier on himself and his buddies.

they drove for long enough for Dick to mentally sing Britney Spears' 'Toxic', Bruno Mars' 'Lazy Song', and Katey Perry's 'Firework'. So, no, he didn't really know how long he had been in the van, because just as he started up with 'Battle Field' by Jordan Sparks he was interrupted as he was pulled out of the van.

"Alright, girlly, I'm going to remove this gag. Before I do I will say three things; one - there is no one around to hear you scream, two - screaming annoys us and gets 'good girls' put on the 'naughty girl' list, and three - we are removing the gag as a courtesy. It can't be comfortable and we don't want to cause you discomfort, but we are not afraid to stick it back in if necessary. Understand?" Dick nodded up at the guy. He already memorized the facial features of every guy in the van, none of them disguised themselves, considering that none of the girls were ever found the ones that were had been traumatized beyond belief, they didn't really need to.

The kidnapper gently removed the gag that had been eased into Dick's mouth before.

"You have a name girl?" He asked.

"Becca, Becca Jones." Dick heard that kidnappers would avoid learning their victims' names to keep from accidentally bonding with them. Like how in 'silence of the lambs' the murderer would call his victims 'it' as not to remind himself they were human beings he was tormenting. So either this guy was a newb, or he genuinely didn't care about human life. Ironically, the nicer the guy was, the more it told Dick how evil he truly was.

"Alright, Becca, just do as we say and things will be alright," he repeated his lie. The guy lead his team into a lone building in the middle of nowhere. As they lead Dick through the building, he could see a small common room area, probably where the kidnappers hung out until they unloaded their victim. They went down a hall to the side and into a medium sized room.

"Here is where you'll be staying for a while, Miss Jones," the 'nice' kidnapper explained as another guy started to untie his binds. Dick looked around and felt confused. It was nice. There was a twin sized bed with clean sheets, a bathroom with a door, a radio, and a television. Dick waited for the other shoe to drop, some reason these guys were being so 'nice'. He had saved kidnapping victims before, they weren't kept in rooms like this unless they were being taken from one parent by another.

"This is the 'good girl' room. We've got a closet with a piss bucket for 'naughty girls'," one of the other kidnappers 'explained'. He sounded rough, more like Dick was used to from low time criminals. He probably had a bit more humanity than the 'nice' guy.

"We'll bring you dinner in an hour or two, in the meantime, feel free to watch some t.v." the first kidnapper suggested.

With that, the door was shut, and Dick heard it lock.

Steph better be on her way with the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this from the library, and don't have my grammar check with me, so you guys are getting all the same errors as my FFN readers on this, and the next, one.


	9. Convincing Disguises prt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick gets rescued? hopefully?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Dick-11 Jason-16 Steph-18 Damian-24

Dick's dinner was KFC on a plastic plate. The guard who gave it to him told him not to complain. It was still relatively warm and a decent amount so Dick honestly had no idea what he *would* complain about. Then again, he's supposed to be a 'pageant princess', so he probably should come up with something to have a Diva Fit about. After he had searched the room top to bottom for clues, Dick was able to note three things; there was evidence of at least three other girls having been kept here, the guards kept an eye through a camera in the top corner of the room, and there was nothing else useful for a crime-fighting detective to investigate in this room.

Dick decided that he needed to expand his search a little. He really only had one option to do so, however.

Taking a breath and getting into character, 'Becca' walked over to the plate that 'she' had set on top of the dresser. 'She' took a bite of the now cold chicken and made a disgusted face.

"THIS IS TOO SALTY!" 'She' screamed at the top of 'her' lungs in the highest pitch he could manage. He realized that he should probably cool it on the voice acting, there was only so much poor Dick could do to pass as a girl. Trying to get back into a head-space that he had lost, Dick then proceeded to throw the biggest tantrum in his life. Complete with flipping the mattress, yanking out the dresser drawers and sending the clean linens inside flying, running to the bathroom and grabbing rolls of toilet paper that he then used to forcefully t.p. the whole room with. He threw the meal against the door and ranted the whole time about how a proper chicken should be prepared. He might have slipped into a bit of an Alfie head-space there, to be perfectly honest.

All in all, it was actually a bit of fun, and it accomplished what he needed it to. As Dick was trying to remove the t.v. from its spot on the stand, two guards came in with zip ties and a gag. They weren't nearly so gentle this time as the zip ties dug deep into Dick's wrists and the gag was tied so tight it cut at the corners of his mouth. He was then dragged out harshly back toward the 'common area' Dick saw before. The 'Nice' guard was by an open closet door, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Now, now, Becca, I thought we had an understanding. I'm sorry, but you're just too wild for the 'good girl' room." With that, the two guards that had a hold of Dick tossed him into the closet and slammed the door shut. There was the sound of keys rattling and Dick knew he had been locked in.

Resettling himself, Dick accidentally kicked a bucket that was in the corner of the pitch black room. Using his feet to feel out the space, he learned that it was about 4x3 feet of floor space and he had plenty of room to stand. Gently kicking the bucket to the side and out of the way, Dick took his practiced stance with his feet at shoulder length, slightly leaned forward, braced his hands against each other palms-in, and firmly raised his hand up his back applying a wedge type force to snap the plastic ring with the use of practical pressure. The zip tie fell right off and Dick pulled his hands in front of himself to rub feeling back into his hands. Now with his newly freed hands, he reached behind his head and untied the gag, releasing his aching jaw from its hell.

Now no longer bound in a painful manner, Dick hiked up his skirt and sat cross-legged by the locked exit with his ear to the door.

"Geeze man, these girls. Pageant girls have to be the craziest. The ones we nab from the gutter are the best behaved! Shame they're not worth as much. Not unless they pass for a pageant girl, at least."

"Yes, but don't forget, the last time we sold a street girl as a pageant girl, it didn't end well for the buyer. We can't afford to have a reputation of that kind. We have to be more honest about our product if we want to raise the prices soon."

"Here's the thing, I get being honest to the customer. With the sleazy pricks that we deal with, it makes since not to screw them over if we don't want to end up dead. But why do we gotta pamper the damn girls? They never appreciate it, and no duh, they just got kidnapped! You keep saying that it's to 'encourage good behavior', but that's only ever worked twice! And one of those times it was a street girl that sold for pennies!"

"Because of business practices, you moron." Woah, 'Nice Guy' suddenly doesn't sound so nice. "We just agreed that it's best not to lie to the customer. So when we say we pamper the product, they pay more for it. We are of course expected to punish 'bad behavior', but as long as we give them a chance in the nicer room first, we can still legitimately make the claim. Get it?"

"I get it. Like those 'Kobe Beef' cows. There are those farms that sell 'Kobe beef' for just slightly less than real Kobe beef, but they get away with it cause they fed the cow Kobe once in a while. Where as the expensive farms feed the cows nothing but Kobe. It's kind of like that, right?"

"Yes! Thank you, Fredrick, you understand!"

"..."

"I'm sorry, Craige, what was that?"

"I said, that these girls ain't no beef." Dick was taken aback by that. From his voice, Craige was the 'rough' guard from earlier. So Dick was right, he did have a bit more humanity than 'Nice guy'.

"You're right, Craige, they are not beef, and they are indeed girls. That's why we get to charge an incomparable amount more."

"Whatever," Craige muttered just loud enough for Dick to hear through the door. He heard steps move out of the room, probably Craige.

"Damn, he's waning," Fredrick said.

"Don't worry. He has just as much to lose as we do. He's too deep into this, we all are. He has no choice but to go through with it. If he wants out after this one, then I'll talk it over with him and we'll reach a deal." Dick hear the cocking of a hand gun, and he had a feeling the deal was of the 'dead men tell no tales' sort.

There was silence for a while, maybe half an hour or so, before footsteps came back in telling Dick that Craige reentered the room.

"We got a buyer yet?"

"Yes, Glen has been waiting rather patiently for a girl since winter last year."

"Glen? The tools guy?" Fredrick sounded disbelieving.

"No, Glen Hedgins. The Smuggler. His ocean yacht can get a bit lonely on long shipments, and he's lamented that none of his crew ever look good enough to, well, even with cabin fever. He wants a girl to warm his bed and he's going to pay handsomely for her."

"Of course Hedgehog would have to *buy* a girl. A face like that, I'm amazed his own mother didn't drown him," Craige snarked.

"That may very well be, but handsome men don't need to buy girls, now do they? Thus we must cater to our customer base as best we can." Dick felt disgusted listening to the men talk about the slave trade as if it was just another commodity. He couldn't wait until Batman busted their door down and beat the living day-lights out of them. Until then, Dick made sure to memorize as much information as he could. Getting moved to the 'Naughty girl room' was probably his best idea yet.

From there the men talked about how ugly 'Hedgehog Glen' was, gossiping about his temper and grosser manners, the conversation took a while and left the men laughing as they mocked their client. It felt like a long time before anyone said anything useful again.

"So, wait, if the buyer is Hedgehog, then we won't be dropping her off in the usual spot, will we?" Fredrick asked. Dick's ears perked up.

"There's not need to worry. I've talked it over to Glen and he'll be bringing a less suspicious vessel into the dock. We worked hard to cultivate a backstory for our use of the pier at our usual time, it'd be such a waste to ruin it by switching up our routine now."

"Still though, I doubt Hedgehog knows what 'less suspicious' looks like, we may want to at least move it to pier 8 instead of 5, but then again, I suppose it's too late for that, isn't it?" Craige pointed out. Dick continued to go over all the new information and tried to think over what else he could possibly need to know. Time would probably be the last thing, right? He had the people, the place, the how, the motive; all that was left was when.

"Shh, did you hear that?" Fredrick gasped. 'Oh no,' Dick thought, 'it's too soon, I still need more information!'

"It's probably just rats," Craige.

"Hold on, don't forget where we base our operations from. The last thing we need is a giant bat falling through the skylight," 'Nice' guy reminded his companions.

"But, Dez, you had us seal over the skylight by welding a large sheet of metal over it, remember?" Fredrick pointed out. 'Finally, a name for Nice Guy!' Dick whooped in his mind.

"Guys, shut up a minute," Craige called over warningly. There was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again, "I think that was in the air duct."

"Then get a gun and shoot them out," Dez ordered.

"Don't be telling me what to do, Carl," Craige snarled back. Wait, Carl? But Fredrick called him 'Dez'? A nickname, maybe?

"Just do it," Fredrick helped Dez/Carl team up against Craige.

Dick honestly couldn't say what all else happened from then. There was banging, gunshots, shouting, and then silence.

"Where is the kid?" That was Damian's 'Shadowbat' voice. Dick rolled his eyes and knocked on the closet door.

"I'm in here," he called out. There was a bit of shuffling toward the door before the knob started rattling as Shadowbat picked the lock. The door swung open and Dick had to blink up at the light. The moment his eyes adjusted to the brightness he noticed the look Damian was giving him. That was when he remembered he was wearing a dress, a wig, and make-up.

"Don't say, anything," Dick lowered his voice as he threatened his eldest brother. Damian, for his part, didn't seem like he was going to laugh.

"Come on, we need to get you out of here." Dick was appreciative of the change in the topic. He stood and straightened out his dress as he followed Shadowbat into the common area. He saw Spoiler in her purple outfit was holding the end of a rope that was tightly binding the three kidnappers in the middle of the room.

"What took you so long!" Dick complained.

"Hey, it's not my fault_ Becca_. I had to stop Betty Carol from ditching town," Spoiler defended herself.

"Who?" Dick was confused. Spoiler did her usual head roll that told everyone that Steph just rolled her eyes.

"The announcer lady? She was the one 'spotting' for the kidnappers. Letting them know where security was weakest, who to nab, when to go, etc. etc." Spoiler explained.

"What, you got Friz?" Fredrick whined.

"So you thought she looked like Ms. Frizzle to?" Dick asked excitedly. The kidnappers each looked at him confused.

"Becca, don't talk to the human traffickers, okay?" Spoiler told him. Dick bit his lip and nodded back at her. Shadowbat draped his cloak over Dick's shoulders and led him out the back of the warehouse.

Dick always liked Shadowbat's cloak. It wasn't the same style of cape as Batman or Superman. It was a dark, smokey gray, hooded cloaked that more wrapped around Damian's shoulders than it did his neck. It seemed to wrap around itself in the front, where it was actually stitched to the other side, to take it off or put it on Damian had to pull it over his head like a shirt. Though in dire situations where he needed it off fast a knife proved more efficient.

"You did good, Robin," Shadowbat muttered to him as they walked over to Shadowbat's motorcycle.

Dick frowned, "but I haven't even given my report yet?"

"Even before you get to it, I can tell you that you did well." Damian helped Dick onto the bike. He sat the younger brother on it sideways and just gave a smirk and a brow rise at the glare he got from it. "You kept in character - the whole time, you kept the mission in mind."

"Oh, about that!" Dick called out to Shadowbat as he reseated himself correctly and the elder got on. "So, I was able to overhear some important information!"

"Hold on to it. You can fill out your report when we get back to the cave." Shadowbat started the engine up and the two sped off.

Later that night saw Dick freshly washed, in proper boy clothes, and trying to write his report while at the same time answering Bruce's questions.

"Pier 8 was their usual place to sell?"

"No, Pier 8 was suggested by Craige, Pier 5 was their usual drop off point. I didn't get a time or date, though."

"And the smuggler was 'Glen Hedgins? Did you get any other information on him?"

"Just that he was ugly and the kidnappers kept calling him 'Hedgehog Glen'."

"Alright, that's all I wanted to go over in your report," Bruce finally relented.

"FINALLY~!" Dick sighed and leaned back in his seat. He was exhausted. Officially dismissed and free to go to bed, Dick trudged up the stairs as fast as his sluggish body could carry him. When he got to the top of the stairs, however, he ran right into his older brother Jason.

"Hey, Dicky! How was your mission? What did you do again? You can Steph went on something top secret, right? So how'd it go?" Jason started asking a million questions, moving to block Dick's path every time the younger tried to duck around him.

"Jason, I'm tired, let me go to bed," Dick demanded.

"Just tell me what your mission was," Jason challenged him.

"Human trafficking, alright? That's all I'm saying," Dick growled.

Jason whistled low and slow as he stepped to the side. "Sounds like Dicky-bird is moving up to the big leagues." Dick stuck his tongue out at Jason as he made for the next set of stairs. Why did Wayne Manor have so many stairs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed my tribute to a classic Robin tradition. 'Cross Dressing Undercover'!


	10. Bruce Meet Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of familiar backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Damian - 5

When Bruce was but 9 years old, he walked with his parents home from the picture theater. He had just seen the first showing of the Legendary Zorro and was completely enthralled with his play as a masked hero protecting those who were incapable of protecting themselves. He danced about the sidewalk, balancing along the curb, showing off great feats of athletics and impeccable swordsmanship; all of which went unseen to the literal mind. His mother and father looked on his play with amused bewilderment. How grateful they were to have such a lively child, so full of imagination and roguish spirit.

A contagious moment of daring caught Mr. Wayne as he witnessed his wife try to stifle a yawn.

"This way," he insisted, thumbing down a dark alleyway. Mrs. Wayne looked on skeptically as she gave her husband a doubtful look for his sanity. "It's perfectly safe, Martha, what with young Zorro here to protect us. Besides, it will get us closer to where the cabbies are waiting much faster. My dear, I see you're asleep on your feet."

"Tom, we can go around with the lights, just like last time. I'm perfectly awake," Mrs. Wayne protested.

"Come on, Mother, I'll protect you!" Little Bruce shouted in glee as he raced down the darkened cobblestones within the alley.

"Bruce! Not so fast, Dearest!" Mrs. Wayne called out to her child.

"Hell's fire couldn't make the boy any swifter. We best catch up to him," Mr. Wayne joked as he took his wife's hand.

Halfway into the alleyway, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne found their child waiting for them, staring fixed at something hanging off a gargoyle alongside the roofing.

"Father, do you see that?" Bruce asked, pointing to a dark mass of shadows beneath the stone creature. It unnerved him, the wrongness of the shadows in contrast to the direction of the moon's light, the way its inky blackness left not even the barest hint of what it hid. Young Bruce couldn't take his eyes from it and felt his heart quicken. He didn't like it, and as his child's mind played up all sorts of horrors, it only served to frighten the boy farther as the inky shadow grew quickly - before, like black lightning, it shot down and glided down before spreading itself long, catching the wind and swooping just above Bruce's head. This caused the boy to shriek and crouch in a fetal position with his head in his shaking hands.

"Oh, silly boy," his father called to him, taking quick steps to be by his son's side, "it was just a bat. Harmless creature if any."

Bruce let his father's words coax him out of his fear-induced state and stood shamefaced by his mother, embarrassed for having acted so cowardly.

"Let's just get home," Mrs. Wayne pressed, and her husband agreed. The two flanked their beloved son as they walked farther into the darkened alley.

It wasn't until they were just about to the exit that someone stepped before them.

"Excuse me, Sir, we need to get through," Mr. Wayne called out to the immobile figure. The only response given was the gun pulled out in a practiced manner. Mrs. Wayne gasped loudly and clutched protectively at her son.

"Pearls; the ones around your wife's pretty neck," the stranger called out, "and your wallet, while you're at it, Sir."

"Please, we will do as you ask," Mr. Wayne replied softly. He slowly reached into his inside breast pocket, where he always kept his billfold. As a gentleman, Mr. Wayne had opinions about those who stow their wallets in the pockets of their trousers. It would seem that this man did not agree with those opinions and decided that the person whom he held at gunpoint was trying to pull a piece of his own.

With two shots the Wayne's hit the ground. With such a protective grapple upon her son, Mrs. Wayne's cold-growing arms dragged the boy down with her. By the time he was freed from her lifeless limbs, the murderer was no-where to be seen. The only sound Bruce could recall from that point in further memory was the heart-wrenching sound of his own pain-filled scream.

* * *

Bruce Wayne - recently turned 17, shot up in his futon. He was drenched in sweat and breathing harshly. He looked around to the other fledglings, most had roused when he did, though all kept still as graves. It was shameful of him to react to a mere illusion of the night. He was here to become part of something greater than himself, he could not do this while he continued to allow himself to be a victim of his own mind!

"Watiwat, you rise before the day has colored the land." The soft voice came from behind him as he felt his heart stop. So, she was the one keeping watch tonight. He tried not to give away his feelings, or how confused they were. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as the daughter of his new master silently walked before him. It was as if she stepped only on shadows. With the same silence and grace, the young woman knelt down to be at eye level with him and the two teenagers locked gazes. He could never tell what she was thinking behind those breathtaking browns, yet they always penetrated deep into his very soul. "You had the dream again?"

Bruce swallowed around the lump in his throat and gave her a silent nod in confirmation. She narrowed her eyes just a little- in either thought or disgust, Bruce could never tell - before she stood again.

"Come, we will go to my father. Your nightmares grow frequent. When the same vision forces upon itself, there is usually a message to be heard in it." Bruce took a shaky breath and stood as quietly as he could. Trying to keep in mind his every lesson since coming to the secret study of the League, he toed after the graceful daughter of the Demon's Head.

The two came before a grand throne room and as soon as they made it to the center, Bruce fell to his knees and kowtowed before his master while his superior, Talia, stood proudly next to him.

"Father, the student you inquired upon earlier, renamed 'Watiwat' for his own great fear, continues to have terrors in his sleep," Talia informed her father, the great and terrifying Ra's Al Ghul.

* * *

"Master Bruce," called Alfred Pennyworth, "I believe there is a parcel for you at the door." Bruce turned in his bed. The 22-year-old was trying to catch what vestiges of sleep he could after his late-night crime-fighting.

"Leave it. I'll get to it in an hour or so," Bruce called out through the door.

"I'm afraid, he may need your attention much sooner than that. In fact, I have taken the liberty of showing him to the library for your reunion." Bruce scoffed in his sleep at the butler and pulled his blanket closer to himself. He had just about dosed back to sleep before the elder man's word finally caught up in his mind.

"Wait, what?!"

Damian Al Ghul, five years old, walked about his father's small library. He was unimpressed with its size and selection, though a small part of him had to admit that not one of the books he had laid eyes on so far seemed at all familiar to him. He supposed if he were to really challenge himself, he could read the library dry within a year, but he didn't see much importance that could be had in such titles as 'The Picture of Dorian Grey'. What could such a thing even be about? Was it a history of a famous painting? Maybe 'picture' was a metaphor and the small tome was, in fact, a biography about an important man named Dorian Grey. Falling victim to his own curiosity, Damian withdrew the book from its place on the shelf and opened it. He started into it, though he hadn't gotten past the preamble set by a painter and lord, and had only been introduced to the titular character through the painter's portrait of him.

Just as the painter began to explain to his friend about the strange character that was Grey, the door opened itself in a disgraceful rush. Damian's eyes forced themselves from the passages he was reading and to eyes that would have matched their own, had it not been for the age and experience that divided them.

"Master Bruce, did you forget to mention a certain 'goings-on' that took place while you were in Russia?" The old man that had lead Damian into his estranged father's home snarked. Damian held off a glare and waited for his father to reprimand his servant.

"I, uh, she didn't, how old is he?" Damian couldn't help but express how dumbfounded he was to see his own flesh and blood react sheepishly to his own servant!

"I have already inquired to the young master's age. He is but five-years-old and manages to have your every mannerism down plus sum. I assume any addition would be a gift from his mother's part? I take it from your reaction, you have in mind who she could be?"

"Well, there really is only one woman on the face of this planet that it _could_ be Alfred. I only keep a persona to the media of a horn-dog. And even when it came to her, I admit things went farther than I should have let them-"

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Master Bruce, after all, it would seem the consequence is now upon us. He was left with this letter on your doorstep. It would seem his mother felt it was time to reunite father and son." Damian couldn't help but glare at the wretched letter his mother had tricked him into handing over. Had the boy known what was written, he'd have never delivered it. At the very least, he would have forged new ones to say something different.

Damian watched in disgraced silence as his father took the papers from the old butler and unfolded them before reading aloud:

'My Beloved,

I hope you have the decency in you to recall that night nearly six years ago, during that time you were once true and faithful to your vows toward my father. You were wrecked with horrid visions every night, calling to you to exact revenge upon the wicked that defiled your home and felled your parents. With father's blessing, I comforted you to my best as we concluded your training was to change. You were to be heir to the greatest army any mortal realm had ever seen.

When you left, it was decided that if your cowardice would keep you from your destiny, whilst you'd carve yourself a new path of righteousness in Gotham, then your own heir would serve to usurp you properly. It was with this in mind that his merciful Ra's Al Ghul chose not to pursue you, and would instead start a new with our son, Damian.

Through matters that which I see no reason to disclose with you, that plan has changed. With no reason to farther his training as the new Demon Head, it was agreed that the most convenient course of action would be to send him to you, his father. Whether you farther his training on your own or stunt his growth is completely up to you. It would be my personal wish that you teach him to inherit the symbol which you have chosen to wear upon your chest. He has already been unjustly stripped of one birth-right, My Love. I cannot give him any more than the hope that you, his own father, would see to it that he is promised the other.

Your ever faithful love,

Talia Al Ghul

(Take care of our prince, Bruce, or I shall take care of you.)'

"Ah, if ever the need for proof of a mother's love, look no farther than the truth of her threats," the old butler jested at his mother's letter. Damian grounded his teeth. So this was to be his punishment? This new world was to be his hell.

"Well, uh, Damian," his father stuttered, "Welcome, to Gotham?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, trying to look up an Arabic name for Bruce for his time with the League, I found that in the media 'Bat Man' had its own name and I thought it'd be cool to put it in there. But when you flip it around in Google and try to translate what the media says رجل وطواط , 'rajul watiwat' to English, it translated it to 'Man and tit', . . . so, no I didn't make an error with Google translate, it's just one of those times that the algorithm gets, . . . wonky.


	11. American Prince Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian has 'culture shock'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Damian - 5

"Thank you for watching Gotham Celebrity Insider, tonight we join our very own Amy Stone as she greets some of Gotham's elite as they join together for the Saint Mercy Charity Ball. Take it away, Amy."

"Thank you, Jill. As you can see behind me, the night has been underway as the guest have been pouring in, but some of the city's most esteemed guests have yet to arrive. As I speak now, here comes Mr. and Mrs. Masterson, followed closely in by the up and coming Drakes. Mr. Masterson, can we get any word on the new Museum being built near Harbor Square?"

"My team of archeologists and I are very excited to confirm rumors about the undergoing of such a project, though I'm afraid that I am not at liberty to got into more detail just yet."

"Alright, thank you for that! So as the Masterson's lead the charge into the Charity Ball, why don't we go through the list of other expected arrivals. Such appearances are hoped to be from the Cliftons, Mr. Maxi Zuse, Luthor, Goldstein, Madame Lueyai Colt, Actress Searia Kittman, and more. To remind, the charity is for the benefit of the road construction down by the old Parkway, with high hopes of helping small businesses as well as convenience in travel. We now have another car coming forward and, I don't believe it, Mr. Bruce Wayne making a debut after his 'skiing accident' last spring. Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne! Can you please give our viewers an idea of what you've been up to, to pass the time while you were healing up from your terrible skiing trip?"

"Actually Amy, I'm glad you asked. I am going to make a more official announcement soon, but it would appear that in my less careful beginning as the notorious playboy I have become, I had apparently been less than careful. Through some very careful navigating through custody court, I can now proudly say that I am a father of a very gifted five-year-old son. I will, of course, be giving more information as things get farther settled."

"Wow, that's such a big change for you Bruce, will that lead to any dramatic differences to your lifestyle do you think?"

"Well, I don't expect fatherhood to be easy. I can say with solemn certainty that I will be attending fewer and fewer events."

"And what of your bachelor status? Think you'll be settling down soon? Maybe even with your son's mother?"

"Ah, no, probably not. I doubt I'll be getting around as much, but no, I don't see myself as the 'settling down' type. Not just yet, anyway."

"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Wayne. Seeing Mr. Wayne through the doors, we now have the Cliftons coming up. Mrs. Clifton, that is an exquisite dress, can you tell us who you wear-" The television suddenly when silent as it was switched off.

"That was utterly moronic!" Damian growled as he almost threw the remote at the television.

"Perhaps, but necessary. Master Bruce needed to explain why he suddenly had a child in his home and it just so happened that his usual cover worked for his favor this time." Pennyworth was cleaning as he spoke to Damian. Dusting, really. Damian ground his teeth as he sat back into his seat. It had been over a month since he moved in with his father in Gotham, New Jersey. Since then, he had four things mostly understood. The first thing he learned, was that while Alfred Pennyworth was a butler and therefore a servant, this was not the extent of his service to his father. In fact, Damian had come to see Pennyworth as more of a vicar to his father's rule, a right-hand man, an adviser, and confidant. Living with his grandfather for so long, Damian wasn't used to seeing someone actually as competent in their position as Pennyworth. It also became quite clear that Damian was to respect and obey the man as if he were an extension of his father himself. So far, Pennyworth had yet to really do anything more than inform Damian of rules and manners pertaining to the new world he now lived in. Damian started to heave a sigh before remembering his mother's teaching on such behavior and tried to cover it with a cough.

The second thing Damian slowly came to understand, that while the Batman that Damian had been told his father was, was feared and respected in equal parts by both criminals and heroes, as well as local law enforcement and his mother's side of the family - that last one being truly impossible feat - Brucie Wayne was a moronic, fast spending, lech that knew nothing about anything. Despite the obvious sense it made toward hiding any connection between the two identities, Damian hated it. The fake way his father had just smiled dumbly at that blonde floozy and her cameraman made Damian sick. It didn't help that he didn't know what his father was actually like because Bruce Wayne didn't seem to know how to act around Damian at all. The kid just could not get a read on the man.

One of the reasons for this was because of the third thing Damian came to understand. Bruce Wayne did not trust Damian Al Ghul. Or anyone named Al Ghul. Wisely so, too. Damian was never made clear on what had happened between his father and mother, he just knew that his father turned his back on the league around the time that it was being promised to him. He knew that while this decision insulted the Al Ghul clan, he also knew that they, in a small amount, respected him for it, though it made them enemies. That last part was key here. They were enemies and Damian was the perfect Trojan Horse. He wasn't really one, but his father was not the fool that was just on the television. Bruce Wayne was well aware that Talia Al Ghul would use her own child to bring the destruction of their own father if she wanted. But the truth as far as Damian saw it, she didn't want to. She just didn't want him, either.

Damian pulled his knees to his chest as he thought on the fourth thing. He was now, completely, and utterly, alone. Alone in a strange country with strange customs that breed strange people.

"Master Damian, might I suggest heading your way upstairs to your bed? You start school tomorrow and I will be waking you at six o'clock sharp." Damian rolled his eyes. It was only eight, he only needed three hours of sleep. He already figured to get a few extra hours by going to bed at ten and getting up at three before doing his morning work out routine. Since his father so far refused to train him or even allow the name 'Batman' be mentioned in the house, Damian had to rely on his own training regiments to keep in shape until his father finally trusted him. However long that took.

* * *

Damian walked down the hallway with a knot growing in his stomach. He was in enemy territory with no backup, no provisions, and no plan. He didn't have the slightest idea of what was waiting for him on the other side of the door that he now stood at. Next to him was a tall woman with a tight bun in the back of her head. She was slightly heavy set with gowls that told Damian that she knew how to smile once, but had forgotten somewhere along the way. Her name was Principal Cook, and she did not seem like a very forgiving woman.

Prin. Cook gave two firm knocks to the door in front of them and then stood at attention. Everything about the woman was ex-military and Damian didn't know if he was happy about that or not. He was used to silent, strict teachers, but at least he knew what they expected from him. Pennyworth already made it very clear that in this country, children were not trained to be deadly assassins, and violence of any kind would not be tolerated on school premises. So Damian honestly had no idea how to behave or what to do. So he kept his head on a swivel and his motions stiff. None of it was intentional.

The door before them opened and a thin man with a blue sweater greeted them. He was balding at the top and his glasses seemed a bit big for his face that Damian kept expecting them to fall right off his nose. He was clean-shaven and had a goofy smile that Damian assumed was meant to relate to the more moronic of Damian it just made the man look like a moron.

"Well, hello Principal Cook, and you must be Damian Wayne. It's nice to meet you. I am Mr. Firks. I will be your homeroom teacher for this year. Would you like to come in and meet your new classmates?" Mr. Firks asked Damian. Damian couldn't bring himself to talk he was so stunned.

"Oh, it's okay to be a bit shy, Damian, but I'm certain your new best friend is waiting in there to meet you. Why don't we give it a try?"

"Mr. Firks," Prin. Cook interrupted, "After watching Mr. Wayne for the past five minutes, it is my assumption that he is coming to us from a military school, please do not talk down to him." So, yes, Damian was happy about Prin. Cook being ex-military. Having at least one adult in the building understand felt like a weight off of Damian's shoulders and he felt himself ease a bit into his usual stance.

"I see. Well then, I'm sorry Damian, I didn't mean to talk down to you," Mr. Firks made a show of apologizing to Damian that Damian had to glare at him a small bit. The guy was talking down to him while apologizing for talking down to him!

"I will be back at the end of the school day to see how well the student is adjusting to the class." With that, Prin. Cook turned on her heel and walked off, or more marched off.

"Come on in, Damian," Mr. Firks motioned for Damian to enter the room. He looked around and felt his eye twitch. There were toys everywhere, kids were running around after each other, there were some screaming, some beating on things, there was a girl in the corner crying her eyes out for no reason, and absolutely nothing that Damian was expecting. "Welcome to your new Kindergarten Class, Damian."

Almost to punctuate the ominous sentence, Damian watched as a boy his age took a whole box of random keys and up-ended it on the floor. Creating both a racket as well as a mess. "When Play Time is over everyone will sit over on that blue rug over there. When things have settled down a bit, then I will introduce you to everyone and we can get started on lessons."

* * *

Damian stood at attention by the front door, refusing any of Pennyworth's attempts to persuade him into other activities. No cookies, outdoor activities, books, or even arts and crafts would work to distract the child. Damian was determined to speak with his father. He would NOT suffer this indignity quietly. He was trained by the world's elite. He had such disgraceful behavior beat from him years ago.

Damian was so absorbed in reciting in his mind what he intended to say to his father that he missed it when Bruce came up behind him.

"Alfred says you wanted to talk to me?" Bruce asked. He bit back a smile when the five-year-old jumped a little before spinning around on his heel. Damian stared at his father in complete awe, his gaze going back and forth from the man behind him and the front door that he had to go through to get into the manor.

"But, how did you?" Damian looked back in loss as he tried to figure out how his father had managed to get passed him. The only way that came to mind would have been through a window, but he couldn't imagine that his father would have climbed a window just to avoid the door Damian was guarding.

"What did you want to talk about Damian?" His father rephrased his question, making it clear he did not intend to answer the one Damian asked.

Taking a breath and then squaring his shoulders, Damian gave a stern look to his father and cleared his throat. "Father, I demand to be removed from that school and placed with one of more intelligent peers. If they must be older than so be it."

Bruce Wayne seemed to be taken aback by Damian's request and the force behind it. His brows shot up and he sent a glance back toward the butler, before turning back to Damian and clearing his own throat as he knelt down to talk to the boy at eye level.

"Damian, I understand your mother had you go through extensive learning processes to put you so very far ahead of all the other children your age, I did take that into consideration when I put you in that class. I also understand that you have not had much in the way of learning to interact with the children you've bypassed. Sometimes you have to take a step back in order to be a great leader," Bruce tried to explain.

"Ttch, I don't need to be in a brainwashing course along with those simpletons to command them! I watched one of those cretins put *glue* in their mouths! And then they threw a screaming fit when the 'teacher', as if the dimwit was deserving of the title, confiscated the glue to avoid the dolt from poisoning himself! Though I suppose that would have been *too much* of a service to humanity to allow the idiots to weed themselves out by their own foolishness!" Damian was panting by the end of his outburst.

"First, I said 'lead', Damian, not 'command'. There is a big difference between the two. Also, I need you to watch how children tend to act in this society so that you may mimic it passably so no one starts asking too much about your mother's side of the family," Bruce tried again.

"I refuse to put up a facade of such moronics!" Damian was furious. He did not want the world to see him like they saw his father. He didn't want the world to see his father the way they did either, but he had no voice in that. "You just want me to be an imbecile that doesn't ask questions, but I was taught better! I want to know more about 'The Batman'! I want to continue my training! I refuse to be just another dullard!"

"As you can see, Master Bruce, Master Damian has even gone so far as to put his vast vocabulary in use to convince you. That was a total of nine words that all are synonymous with 'stupidity' and I have a foreboding feeling that we've only scratched the surface," Pennyworth felt the need to add his unwanted voice into the argument between father and son. Damian wanted to snap at him to shut up, but he knew that wouldn't go over well with his father for some reason.

"That's enough, Alfred, I need to talk with Damian myself, please." Damian almost couldn't believe his ears or eyes as his father shot a look over to the butler. Pennyworth raised a brow at the man before giving a small nod and dismissed himself back to the kitchen. "Damian, follow me."

Still a bit shocked, Damian followed his father through a door that he had been expressly forbidden from entering and hadn't had enough time to properly sneak through yet. There seemed to be no need as his father unlocked and opened the door for him, motioning for Damian to go through. Once in the room on the other side, Damian saw that it was just a simple study room, no doubt where his father did any of his office paperwork that followed him from the office or personal files such as taxes or whatever else. But the point was that it was his father's private space, and Damian had finally been invited inside.

"Take a seat." His father's voice broke Damian out of his awestruck wonderment and the five-year-old instantly sat himself down in one of the armed chairs in front of his father's desk. His father then sat on the other side. There was silence before Bruce pulled out a file from a locked cabinet and handed it over to Damian. The document was in Arabic and thus was even easier for Damian to read, with it having been his first language. The boy scanned it over and felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. It didn't help that his eyes began to prick with tears and cause him farther humiliation.

"You know what that is, Damian." It wasn't a question. Not even a rhetorical one. His father knew very well that Damian was familiar with what was in his hand.

"It's, it's a training regiment, . . . for me," Damian's voice was growing smaller.

"I didn't want to just throw you into something neither of us were ready for yet. You still need to acclimate to this new culture and I need to acclimate to this new responsibility. Not to mention I had to think of something from scratch for you that would best work what you do know and grow what you don't. It's not as easy as it sounds." Damian could have sworn he was listening to his father talk from a megaphone straight into his ear. Each word cut straight through his brain and hit something deep in him that took him a moment to realize what it was. A traitorous tear fell from his eye as he came to terms with what this meant. His father had every intention of training him, of letting Damian in, of granting Damian his last inheritance.

Damian had to swallow around the lump in his throat and looked his father in the eye. He owed this man an apology. However, as soon as Damian opened his mouth to do just that his father spoke.

"I'm giving you a choice Damian," Bruce folded his hands on the desk before him, "I will allow you to skip as many grades as you can, you can be Gotham's little genius. I'll make certain you get all the best tutors and are challenged by peers much older than you and help you grow in that way-," Damian held his breath, he knew there had to be an ultimatum. "Or, you can promise me you'll try harder to blend in with society so that no one suspects a thing when Batman suddenly has a highly trained, extremely smart, child fighting at his side."

Damian couldn't stop another treacherous tear from falling from his other eye this time. His father really had taken all his previous training into account when he chose Damian's class. He looked back down to the training regiment in his hands. It looked properly challenging without seeming too impossible. He looked back up to his father. "When?"

"Not until you're twelve, at the youngest," Bruce answered.

"Ten," Damian challenged.

"Non-negotiable," Bruce replied.

"Fine." And with that, Bruce gave his son a smile.

"I suppose if we're going ahead with your training," he stood as he spoke, walking over to the grandfather clock against the other wall, "I should probably show you where that training will be taking place." With that, his father turned the hand on the clock before opening the glass door and pulling down on the pendulum. There was a click and the whole clock suddenly swung to the side as if on a hinge. It probably was. Damian gasped as the doorway it revealed showed a set of stairs that went deep underneath the house. "Let me show you, Damian, the 'Batcave'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a lot, and I mean a LOT of readers who wanted to see 'Culture shocked' Damian, and I kinda did too, but then I realized at Five, EVERY kid is having culture shock. Like, 'what do you mean I'm not allowed to throw spaghetti against the wall?', 'explain to me again, what is wrong with putting this particular object in my mouth? It this other one okay? No? Then how about that one?'. For Damian, his learning curve is from an actual different society, but he would actually fit in pretty well in trying to learn American customs while at school because at 5, that's what his classmates are also learning.


	12. Damian's Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia does NOT win 'Mom Of The Year' awards....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Damian - 18

"You talk as if you don't need Nightling around! Do you know how many times you would have died if not for me?"

"I did just fine without Nightling before. You're a hero in training, don't overestimate yourself."

"I'm eighteen years old, Father, and I have been 'training' my whole life!"

"Fighting well is only one part of what it takes out there. You need more life experience."

"More life experience? I have eleven years of life experience on the streets! That's only five years less than you!"

"My answer is final, Damian, and if you have a problem with that then Nightling is benched for the rest of the month!"

"Benched? What, are you grounding me? At eighteen?"

"I'll ground you at forty! Nightling isn't going out, that's final."

Damian wasn't even sure how this argument started. He wasn't even sure what he had hoped for when it did. He did know that he had had enough and marched his way up the stairs to his room. His first reaction to being grounded was admittedly juvenile. Mainly due to having been treated like a child for so long he honestly forgot that he was now an adult. Damian kicked his wastebasket, threw himself to his bed, and screamed into his pillow until the air was out of his lungs.

After Damian settled down a bit, he turned over and let himself go back over how he 'lost' the fight he just had with his father. The realization that he hadn't yet had him sitting up in his bed wide-eyed. He hadn't lost yet, not really. The only way he'd actually lose is if he let his father continue to walk all over him. He had been letting his father stunt his growth as both a man and a hero for too long and it was time Damian left for his own.

* * *

It only took a couple of days for Damian to find a place in the seedier parts of Bludhaven. He had at first thought of finding something more appropriate for someone of his status, but one of his father's most frequent arguments against his abilities was that Damian had lived his whole life as a 'prince' in one form or another, he had no clue how to be a commoner nor did he understand them. So Damian chose someplace where he would be forced to live among them for the unforeseeable future.

Those first couple of days were utter hell as the learning curve turned out to be much steeper than he had anticipated. But acting and improvisation were two of the many useful skills Alfred Pennyworth had to teach him, and while actually getting used to this new world, Damian was quick to fake it. After he made 'nice' with the neighbors; the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Lewis that lived to his right, the consistently stoned Zach, Megan, and Chris across the hall, and Bill the veteran from just to the left of them, Damian was actually starting to grow a decent support system for his alias 'Devin Wells'.

It took a couple more days, however, for Damian to get his new alter ego settled in. As it turned out, Bludhaven wasn't in the market for a new vigilante, despite its desperate need for one. 'Shadowbat' was first deemed a public menace for the very moment he tried to save a young girl from being attacked in a dark alleyway. He learned to appreciate all the hard work his father had to do to get the city of Gotham to trust him. Unfortunately, Damian couldn't seem to figure it out. He would save the victim with minimal harm to the criminal, but nearly every time, the criminal was the one asked to press charges against 'Shadowbat'.

After a month had gone by, Damian managed to get his new life into something that resembled a steady rhythm, and that was when he saw it. On his way to another job interview for a local shop, he was trying to keep to a theme, Damian passed by an Electronics Store. The advertised t.v.'s were all on the news and showing the same story:

_Batman & Nightling save Burnstein Charity Gala from Penguin's latest scheme!_

The anchor was live, and the story was new, and Damian saw red.

* * *

*a/n**

* * *

Damian drove back into Bludhaven in a blind rage. He didn't greet Sally taking a smoke by the apartment stairs, he marched straight past Zach and Megan as they stumbled with arms filled with groceries. He completely ignored Mrs. Lewis' offer to bring him some leftover casserole. He wasn't in his apartment long, just a quick strut through to the back toward the case he kept in the vent behind the bed. After a quick costume change, it was out the window facing the dark alley and into the night.

It wasn't hard for him to find some criminals in need of a face-smashing. Not in Bludhaven. Damian got into a pattern as he made his way downtown and back around. About his fifth petty crime in, he took a small breather atop of a skyscraper roof. He kept a vigilance as he rested, making calculations in his head on where the most efficient place would be to go next.

"If you continue the way you are now, it will only serve to make you an easy target in the future," an unwelcome voice spoke from behind him. Snarling, Damian turned on his heel to the other parent that had betrayed him.

"Mother." Damian stepped down from the ledge he had previously perched upon and stood his full height to face down the woman. While his father's recent transgression was painful and all he could think about at the moment, he hadn't forgotten the wicked woman's misdeeds either.

"New look? I will admit, it does better at intimidation as well as concealing your presences," Talia AlGhul said as she stepped forward to stand only mere feet from her son. The son she had almost killed the last they met. A meeting that took place five years ago.

"What do you want?" Damian growled at her.

"I want to know why you let this happen." Damian's snarled lip and grounding teeth only seemed to push her onward as opposed to his intentions. "When I sent you to your father, it was to see whom you would try to prove yourself to; your father, or the league. Should you have taken the opportunity for subterfuge you would have no doubt impressed your grandfather. Unfortunately, you took the alternative route. You chose to side with the Batman and learn his ways, to impress _him_."

"He was there for me, he was willing to teach me. _You_ threw me away and expected me to come groveling back!" Damian argued.

"And what about now? Has he not done the same as I? Have you not been thrown aside in favor of fresh blood, someone who is even less inclined to oppose him?"

"Quiet. You do not get to speak as if you are any better than him!" Damian was now shouting, and it irritated him that she was still as calm as ever.

"You left, Damian. Your mission was to betray your father and return to us. Do not act as if you hadn't eventually come to realize that. You were always expected to come home. Your father has replaced you at the first sign of insubordination, and yet, despite all the ways you have betrayed us, we still have a place for you in the league. Your place, as it was, as it will always be." Talia opened her arms as if to invite Damian in for an embrace. Damian took a step backward. Once a person began to hear the snake-like lilt in his mother's voice, there was no confusing her ilk for anything savory again. He knew she was up to something. She always was. And she was never against using her own child as a tool to get it.

"I won't go groveling back to him," Damian readied his stance, "So I sure as hell won't go groveling back to _you_!"

With that, the fight was on. Damian threw a bola for the woman that had no less than seven warrants out for her arrest in New Jersey alone. Talia dodged to the side before launching herself at his feet. Damian went to fall to the side to avoid his mother but ended up nearly tripping over the ledge of the fifty-foot skyscraper. Talia wasn't giving him any time to right himself as she took advantage of his unbalance and sideswiped her foot at his, knocking any leverage he might have had and sending him over. Or would have if not for the grip he had with his hands. The angle of his arms keeping his back down to the building and allowing him to bend his elbow before throwing himself toward the middle of the rooftop and off the ledge, instead of off the building entirely. The action had him stumble a little and Talia was quick to lunge for his back.

Damian hadn't moved fast enough to dodge the woman and she quickly wound her arm around his neck, putting him in a tight sleeper hold. With his air and blood circulation mostly cut off, Damian had to act on instinct. Using brute strength to pull them both to their feet, Damian noted that she was using her right arm around his neck and her left to keep it firm. With her leverage on her left, Damian moved his left foot and placed it behind her right, then he ducked down, pulling her over him. As he turned his head he grabbed her right hand and twisted it behind her as he pulled himself from her grasp. Taking his fluid motion to its end, he kicked the back of her knee and slammed his fist to the side of her temple to keep her down.

Before he could get another hit in, she spun on her knee to the right, forcing his arm to twist in a compromising position. With his grip already awkward and failing, she then threw her fist into the tense tendon of his hand, spraining it and forcing him to let her go in one. Not taking a moment to let himself feel the pain, he instead used his elbow to hit her head from the top. Not wasting the momentum, he let his arm continue down until it was in position to move to a proper right hook toward her chin and knocking her on her back.

Just as he took a step forward to continue his attack, she pushed all her weight to her shoulders and threw herself to her feet. Suddenly faced with the deadly assassin properly, it was pure instinct that had Damian move his stance to defense just in time to block a harsh series of blows to his body. Arms aching, but vitals protected, Damian finally saw a break in her pattern and managed to grab her wrist, spinning his body and throwing her over himself and hard onto the concrete rooftop. Talia let out a gasp as the air left her lungs.

Damian twisted the wrist that he had a hold of and bend her elbow to trap her neck. He grabbed her other arm quickly and pinned it similarly across her chest. To avoid her trying to gain leverage from the hold, Damian put all his weight on her by straddling her midsection.

"Get, out, of my, city!" Damian growled down at her.

Talia laughed, "Does it feel like that time you found your father's cape? Wearing it around and pretending you were all grown up? Claiming a city you are completely foreign to as your own, just so you can be like him."

"Shut up!" Damian screamed. His heart was pounding in his chest and his eyes burned. He was a grown-up adult. It was his choice to leave the league. It was his choice to leave Gotham. Yet, she was right, it felt like one big game of pretend, and he hated it.

"You are still just an unwanted child, trying to convince everyone he has a place to belong." Her words lashed at him in a way he didn't want to admit. He tightened his grip on her, pushing down even harder as if pinning her better would get her to be quiet. "You think that you'll earn anyone's respect like this? A new name, a new costume, a new city. But everything else is the same pathetic excuse for an heir. No birthright, no family, nothing!"

Damian, so focused on his mother's scathing words and trying to keep her arms where they were, didn't pay any attention to the shifting of her body beneath him as her feet came up around his neck and pulled him back. With the majority of his weight off of her, Talia managed to free her right hand. Instead of going for yet another strategic attack, Talia simply went for a hidden dagger on her thigh and slashed and used the movement of her sitting up to slash at her son's chest.

It was the kevlar in his suit that saved him. The dagger only managed to cut through and leave a thin slice but left no damage beyond what was skin deep. It was an otherwise killing blow. She was finally done talking.

Good, Damian was done listening.

Rolling in a backward summersault before pushing to his feet, Damian moved back into a boxer stance. Talia did the same, giving a small flourish as she spun the dagger in her hand, back fisting the blade. She wasn't planning to fight fairly, so neither was he. He knew this city. Maybe not as well as the citizens, and maybe not as well as he knew Gotham, but he knew it a lot more than she did. He also knew that while over the edge of the building his side was straight down to the street, he knew what laid in wait on the other.

Talia's eyes never left him as he raced forward at her. Just as she moved to ready her position for a counter-attack with the blade, striking downward at his cloak, Damian redirected to the right and continued on for the other side of the building. Talia, not expecting the redirection actually stumbled. She corrected herself and made a chase for her son only to stop as she watched him dive headfirst off the side of the building. She knew what gadgets his father had outfitted him with and assumed the boy was making his retreat. Talia threw her nose in the air at his cowardice and turned to make her own exit. The sudden rush of noise stopped. Just as she turned to investigate what the sound was, a crane outfitted with a claw was quickly swinging around from the building Damian had just jumped to. Talia was confused at first as there wasn't any way that he could actually think he could _hit_ her with the metal claw. But as she was about to react to what she thought was a poor attempt at a hit, the claw opened in midswing, throwing a whole load of gravel at her and onto the rooftop. Having been more focused on dodging the metal claw than it's hidden cargo, Talia found herself half-buried.

Quickly shooting a line over and returning to the skyscraper rooftop, Damian found his mother already free from the pile of tiny rocks. The gravel did some damage, however, and he could see blood from where impact actually broke skin. He expected a long-winded lecture about fighting with honor but instead found his mother giving what could only be described as a proud smile.

"Perhaps, you will thrive in your new environment after all," she mused. Before Damian could respond, a thick smoke surrounded her and caused him to choke and cough. By the time he managed to get clear of the smoke, she was, as he had expected, gone.

Damian hated that his heart swelled with a bit of pride to have at least one of his parents acknowledge him, and he hated it even more that it was his mother of all people. In the end, he decided it didn't matter. Bludhaven was his city, and whether or not it made anyone proud of him, he was going to protect it. That was his true purpose for being after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is where the first flashback in 'Bound With Regret' took place.


	13. A Rough St. Patties Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason says 'goodbye' to his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Jason - 14 Bruce - 39

Bruce sat attentively while the visitors from S. Korea made their pitch as to why a merger with their company was a good investment. So far Bruce had already decided to go ahead and go through with it, mainly based off of his own private research of the corporation. While the company in question wasn't entirely clean, it was fairly honest and was true about their waste reduction practices. Even then, most of their 'dirty laundry' was petty grade school stuff in comparison to the typical corruption Bruce was used to dealing with. Nothing he didn't know how to clean up.

However, courtesy dictated that Bruce let the presenters give the pitch they have, no doubt, been practicing for so long. Bruce kept his eyes on the smiling pair as the duo worked together to keep things running smoothly. Shame it was ruined when Bruce's secretary came bursting through the door and all but ran over to him. Frantic, she handed him a sticky note with the school's number on it with the word 'URGENT' scribbled at the top. Bruce's gut dropped.

"Sir, Mr. Pennyworth just called. Your son, Jason, has disappeared from school." Bruce hardly gave her a chance to finish whispering before he was on his feet and out the door. He could somewhat hear her addressing the board with the vaguest details about his family emergency. Bruce honestly didn't care what they thought, all he could think was, "dear God, please not again!"

Once in the stairwell, Bruce practically jumped straight down the center of the spiral, jumping to railings every now and then to keep from dropping a fatal distance. He exited straight into the parking garage and right into his car, peeling out as he began to dial the school on his cell.

"Gotham Academy-"

"This is Bruce Wayne. I've just heard my son, Jason Todd, went missing?" Bruce interrupted.

"Mr. Wayne, yes, well, you see, uh," the secretary stammered and Bruce could hear the shifting of papers. "We have some reports from a couple of students stating they saw Jason Todd leaving school grounds during lunch. He was then counted absent from Mrs. Banshaw's class. He's not on school property and thus is now truant. Unless we get a slip signed excusing his early dismissal, I'm afraid this will go on his permanent record." Bruce tried to piece together what all these clues might mean.

"So he, just, left?" He had to ask again.

"I'm afraid so." Bruce gritted his teeth as a clearer and more likely scenario came to the forefront of his mind. He better be wrong, or that boy was grounded for the rest of his life.

"Thank you. I'll take it from here." With that, Bruce hung up and tossed his phone to the passenger seat. He then opened his glove box to retrieve a smalled tracking device of the same size as the discarded phone. Activating the tracker with a flick of a small switch on the side, Bruce ticked through the four options he had programmed into it until he got to the very last, and most recent, one; 'JTodd'.

Once the GPS on the tracker loaded, Bruce could see that Jason, or his watch with a tracer in it, showed him to be at Robinson Park. It wasn't exactly where he had feared the boy had been, but not too far off either. Turning off on the exit, the Lambo hit dramatic speeds as he raced toward his rebellious charge.

* * *

Bruce walked around Robinson Park with his tracking device in hand, letting people believe he was just texting, as he tried to pinpoint where the little red dot was trying to lead him. It was as he neared a small row of trees that he heard a 'sniffle' that Bruce realized he was close. Walking around one of the larger trees, Bruce first saw a bottle of Irish Creme Whiskey, half-empty and discarded on the ground without its lid. Biting down on his anger for the moment, Bruce kept moving toward the sniffling until he saw his little delinquent.

Jason, for his part, was curled up on himself at the base of the large tree, hugging his knees as he shook with sniffs and sobs, that helped Bruce put his anger on the back burner. Tapping into patience he didn't know he had, Bruce calmly walked over to Jason's side and placed a steadying hand on his back.

"I-I gu-guess you'll be throwing me, me out now *hic*," Jason muttered with stutters and slurs. Bruce could tell from the smell on him that Jason was indeed the one who drank the whiskey bottle on the ground.

"No, Jason. I'm disappointed, don't mistake that, but I'm not going to give up on you for one misstep," Bruce tried to soothe him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so f**king sorry, Bruce." Jason seemed to hug himself tighter as he apologized. "I, it wasn't like I really wanted to. It's not cool, I know that."

"Then why did you do it?" Bruce asked. He watched as another set of sobs wrecked Jason's body before the boy was able to take a large, calming breath and explain.

"I hated him. I still hate him," Jason started. Bruce already knew where this was going. It had only been five months ago that news came to the Wayne household of Willis Todd's death. He was trampled during a prison riot. Jason never once showed anything beyond 'smug satisfaction' since. '_Karma at work, I say_,' was his only response. Alfred had been predicting that the pre-teen had been in denial the entire time. Looked like the old man was right.

"He was still your father, Jason."

"Some father!" Jason shouted bitterly. "He was mean! He was never there! He always went behind Mom's back and spent all her money." Jason started sniffling again and Bruce started to rub gentle circles on his back.

"If that was the only thing, then why are you here?" Bruce asked. He noticed that Jason's weight was slowly shifting to rest against him. He knew better than to make any movement or mention of it.

"It's dumb," Jason replied. "It was just some dumb stupid thing. But even so, it was our dumb stupid thing. He, Dad was always so mean. He was even worse when he was drunk, but not on Saint Patrick's Day. Maybe it was the holiday, maybe it was the type of liquor, but he was actually kind of nice on St. Patrick's day."

Bruce sat quietly as Jason rambled. He knew the boy just needed him to sit there and listen. Even so, his heart was aching for Jason, and he hated that there wasn't really anything he _could_ do for him. He can't change the past, after all.

"Dad, he would give me some. Just a taste, help me get used to it for when I 'became a man'. Crap like that, you know? It was never enough to really have any effect. Just a taste," Jason continued. "It was gross. I hated the flavor. But Dad was being nice, so I'd drink it, every time." Bruce felt the anger start to rear it's head again. This time, it was at that good for nothing Willis Todd. Bruce shoved it to the side in favor of more reasonable thinking.

"Jason, you have to know that this isn't a tradition you can continue on. Not for another seven years at least," Bruce didn't know if his timing was right on this front of not, but there was no turning back now.

"That's, no, it's not a tradition, Bruce. I was," Jason let out a long, drawn-out, drunken sigh. "I was saying 'good-bye', I guess. You know, to the one part of him I'll actually miss." Now that was a knife in his gut.

"Let's get you home, Jay." Bruce didn't get a response from his adopted son, but the way all of Jason's weight officially fell onto him let him know the boy was expecting to be carried. Bruce couldn't help but give a sad smile and oblige. Lifting the boy in his arms, Bruce started for his car to take the boy home.

"When you've sobered up, we're going to talk about where you got the alcohol from," he warned as they neared his vehicle.

"Sure thing, Dad," Jason mumbled sleepily. Bruce about dropped him from shock. Sure, Damian called him 'father', but that was as far as Bruce ever got to being called 'dad'. It was weird, and he never really thought about it before, but Bruce decided he might like 'Dad' better. It felt more personal.

"You rest now, Son."


	14. Four's a Pair part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph and Bruce reconnect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Tim - 18 Stephanie - 18 Bruce - 41

Stephanie walked into the study in Wayne Manor. Considering it was her turn to be on the outs with the Boss, it was pretty ballsy of her. She and Bruce just had another argument about how to do the job. Mainly; he didn't approve of her 'jump first - strategize second' method to her work, and she didn't feel like she _needed_ his approval. Now she was deleted from his system, all the locks and passcodes had been changed, and everyone in the family had been ordered to leave her out of any loop.

And order that exactly zero of his 'subordinates' followed.

Damian made sure she knew the new channel on the coms. Jason told her the new passcodes to the manor. Cass kept asking Steph to read her mission debrief to her, and requesting her aid. Lastly, Dick would send her text messages updating her on how Bruce was doing outside of 'the Batman'. Oh, and let's not forget Alfred, who had just let her into the manor when she knocked on the door just a minute ago.

Stephanie bravely made her way through the secret grandfather clock passageway, into the Batcave. Marching down the stairs with a purpose. She came to a dead stop when she saw a dark-haired man at the bat-computer. Instincts made her freeze, but on closer inspection, she couldn't help the large grin that spread across her face.

"And here I thought I'd have the cave to myself for a bit," she 'complained' as she walked up behind his chair.

"Funny, I thought the same," Tim muttered as he clicked on a new application. Steph saw that a loading bar came up on the screen. She looked closer at what Tim had just started and noticed it was the fingerprints database, Tim had a partial print that was being systematically compared to all registered criminals and felons.

"What's your case?" Steph asked curiously.

"From your tone, I assume you have one of your own?" Tim deduced.

"Yep, now spill."

"Art Heist. Not something I'd normally go after, but the group guarding it worked for Roman Sionis."

"Black Mask," Steph added, recognizing the civilian name of the masked crime lord.

"It's priceless, . . . and completely worthless," Tim continued, "It's a hideous piece made by a dying artist named Kreg Keleb. He had suffered a stroke so severe it forever damaged the spinal nerves that sent neuro signals to his fingers. In short, he lost his ability to paint like he used to. He made five paintings since, trying to develop a new style. Not one was successful."

"Huh, weird," Steph pulled out her own evidence bag, "I've got a stolen painting, too."

"By Kreg Keleb?"

Steph riffled through the bad until she pulled out a gallery tag and read it out loud. "Horizontal Kaleidoscope, by Keleb."

"That's our guy," Tim announced with a furrowed brow. "Think it was the same perp?"

"Maybe, how long ago was yours?" Steph asked, trying to set a timeline.

"Eleven o'clock last night," Tim answered. "Yours?"

"Same," Stephanie said as she bit on her bottom lip. "Maybe a group? I mean, it can't be a coincidence, can it?"

"It can always be a coincidence. Just because it's improbable doesn't make it impossible," Tim lectured.

"So, what? You think the same guy was in the Bowery at the same time as the North End?"

"Let's just analyze what we have and _then_ apply common sense."

Stephanie shrugged and pulled out a few print pads she had used at her crime scene. "Here are my guy's fingers," she said as she handed them to Tim. He took them and placed them in the scanner with the prints he already had going. After clicking open a new window and setting a new program to compare the two, it only took the computer five minutes to compare the two samples.

"A match. Same guy," Tim announced.

"What? No, it can't be! There's a thirty-minute drive between the two locations. Unless he was a teleporter or a time traveler?" Stephanie gasped, "Oh my gosh! You don't think it was Dr. Who, do you?"

"You make me regret sharing my interests with you, you realize that?" Tim muttered as he gave her a half-hearted glare. Stephanie shrugged and pulled up an on-screen map of Gotham.

"Still, it's a legitimate question. How could this possibly be the same guy? And what's more, why is he stealing priceless art that no-one wants?" Steph pointed out.

"Good questions," Tim replied before full out glaring over her shoulder. "Have any ideas?"

Steph furrowed her brow and checked behind herself. She half expected to see Damian, Alfred, or hell, even Cassandra. Her heart nearly stopped to see Bruce.

"Bha! Dick said you had a board meeting today!" Bruce narrowed his eyes at her.

"So, that's why you were trying to get to the Batcomputer so quickly," Tim realized in a lazy voice. "I was wondering why you were rushing."

"Whatever. I got enough information to work with. Same guy, same time, two locations."

"Three." The sudden addition caused Steph to falter as she tried to gather her stuff.

"What?" Bruce didn't speak again just yet, but he pulled up a window that had been minimized under Tim's work. The image alone told Steph what he was getting at.

"So, art thieving triplets? I mean, I know they can't _really_ be triplets, but like-" Steph didn't even know how to finish her sentence.

There was a quiet moment of contemplation before Tim abruptly stood up. Stephanie about said something until she saw the way his shoulders were tensed up and his hands were flexing at the fingers. He must be hearing JJ again. He always did around Bruce.

"I'll leave this to you two then," he declared as he walked to his motorcycle.

"Tim!" Steph called for him.

"It's not _my_ case anymore," was all he said before he started up his bike and peeled out of the cave.

* * *

Steph walked along the museum with a pair of shades on her face and a pair of headphones in her ears. It was the same museum where Horizontal Kaleidoscope was stolen, but there also seemed to be something off about the other paintings as well. She let herself bob her head up and down a little as if she was actually listing to music. She then adjusted the pair of sunglasses as she looked up at a painting on the wall of the museum.

"Yes, right there is perfect, Miss Stephanie," Alfred's voice called through the headphones. Steph stilled as she watched the lenses go through a few settings as the butler toggled between the typical ones. He stopped at the radiation detector as the painting started to glow a bright red in it's otherwise darker surroundings. "My goodness, the thing is practically made out of radiation."

_"Hey, Marlo."_

_"Welcome back, Bruce. What brings you by?"_

_"In all the excitement last night I didn't get a chance to admire your collection."_

_"Come on, we both know that's not why you're here. Who can resist a mystery? You want to see the closet for yourself."_

_"Guilty as charged."_

_"Be my guest."_

"Wait, what?" Steph muttered under her breath and into the headphones mic.

"Another assailant had attacked at. John Marlo's art gallery last night, right in front of a whole audience before ducking into a closet and vanishing," Alfred explained. "Readings are coming in, Master Bruce. Interesting, we're picking up low spectrum radioactivity in that closet. The same activity Miss Stephanie seems to be finding at the museum."

_"Thanks for indulging me, John."_

_"Not a problem."_

_"Closet aside, I do have an anterior motive for coming in today. I'm worried about you."_

_"Really?"_

Feeling awkward, Steph decided to follow the 'chem trail' toward another painting. Just like the first, it was practically glowing with radiation. That's when Steph noticed it. Stuck right in the crevice of the frame was a strand of hair. Fingerprints were all well and good, heck, they were the best for evidence. Most of America had their prints on record for some reason or another, good or bad. But if that someone, say an art thief that has managed to be in three places at once, managed to go his whole life without being put on record, there really was nothing to compare it to. But who hasn't pulled the 'there's a stray hair on your shirt, just let me get that for you-' bit, before?

While there was no database with collected hair from nearly everyone all over the country, it would make eliminating suspects a lot easier. Only if Steph could get her hands on it. Something told her the good ol' 'there's a stray hair on this priceless, heavily guarded, and recently almost stolen piece of art' wasn't going to work here.

"Alfred, you seeing what I'm seeing?" Steph muttered under her breath.

"If you mean to the lower right-hand corner, than yes, Miss Stephanie, I believe I do."

"Can you think of a way to get me to it?" Steph asked.

"I can think of a couple. If you would begrudge me one moment."

_"Something's different, John. The party? The way you tried to take on that masked thief? Even the way you talk. It isn't you."_

_"What's the matter, Brucie?! Scared of a little social competition? People change! I'm sorry if I no longer fit into some comfortable role you once defined for me."_

_"I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry."_

_"It's fine. Truth is, I have been a little all over the place lately, . . ."_

"Oh, my." Alfred's gentle interjection did nothing for Steph's nerves.

"Alfred?" She called, worried.

"It's nothing for the moment, Miss Stephanie. Now then, about that distraction, . . ." No sooner did Alfred finish his sentence did fire alarms go off around the museum. Everyone first started a mad scramble, not sure where the fire was and where was safe to go. The guard closest to Steph quickly made his way to the farther guard, trying to discretely motion to his walkie while making a slicing motion. A quick glance at the nearby security camera and Steph could see the red light flicker then die as footage was cut. Trying to keep it looking natural as if she had been shoved across the rope, Steph swiftly snatched up the hair and then made her exit out with a few dozen startled Gothamites.

At first, she thought how silly it was for them to be all worked up by a fire alarm until she overheard some girls muttering to each other.

"Who do you think it was this time? Penguin? Two-Face?"

"I don't know, and don't care. I'm just happy to get out before I became a hostage."

Suddenly the panic she just caused didn't seem so silly to her anymore. Steph really hoped that the little hair would give her something to justify scaring so many people.

* * *

"Alfred said you've recovered a hair from a radiated painting at the museum." And that was her greeting upon returning to the Batcave.

"Yeah. A little tricky, but then again, you do have all the best tricks hidden away here. Anyone ever tell you how 'O.P.' your programming skills are?"

"I managed to get a hair off of John before I left. If we compare the two then I might be able to eliminate him as a potential suspect," Bruce continued on as if he didn't hear her.

"Suspect? Good Lord, Master Bruce, I would think Mr. Marlo has as tight of an alibi as it gets. After all, he was saved from the thief by none other than the Batman himself!" Alfred cried out.

"Except, it might be an accomplice dressed up and helping Marlo, or even Marlo using some time traveling tech, or something," Steph pointed out. When both men gave her a strange look she just shrugged. "Hey, I'm not letting that one go. It's not like we haven't seen weirder by now."

Not letting up on his 'look', Bruce took the hair samples to the computer to run a comparison diagnostic on them. While they were scanning, he and Steph went over the video recordings of the other's findings. Through this, they were _supposed_ to exchange ideas, but as it usually was with Bruce, he did most of the giving ideas and Steph was constantly shut down on hers. It was near around the time that Alfred had set the security in the museum on the scramble that Steph saw what had startled him from Bruce's feed.

When Bruce went to thank Marlo for letting him see the closet, Bruce's shades got a good look at his host, and how he, too, seemed completely covered in radiation.

"Sir, I'm afraid the hair was a match. It would seem John Marlo is indeed the main suspect." With that Bruce hung his head and sighed.

"Very well then. Let's go."

* * *

Before Steph knew it, the two were jumping rooftops toward, some random skyscraper in the sea of the like. "Alright, confused now."

"Marlo's company has been conducting experiments in quantum theory for the government." Spoiler felt relief that Batman felt in the mood to share for once.

"Okay, so that explains why he's radioactive, but what's with the not stolen paintings at the museum and the worthless priceless art by Keleb going missing?"

Batman didn't seem to have an answer, moving a hand to change the settings on his lens' of his cowl. "I'm getting two radiation hot spots in the building. I'll go high, you go low."

"And away we go!" Spoiler called out as she grappled on over to the nearest entry point she could get to on the building. Easily enough she found an external vent. Unfortunately for her, Marlo thought to have its security checked and censored. Meaning that while it would be a good entry point for her, it was going to take her a couple of minutes to hack through and disarm it, especially since she'll first need to find an external control panel that she can plug into and run the auto hack through. It took her a bit, but she was able to find the next best thing just a few feet above and to the left, a power box.

With little trouble, Spoiler was able to pop the fuse box and run her auto hacker, turning off the power to the outer vent. From there it was smooth sailing as she used some of the simpler tools in her belt to pry open the vent and then crawl through. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, and something she would have been better suited for about five years ago, but here she was, shimming through the vents like a ceiling snake.

Just as she made it around a wide bend she could hear two men below her. Going a few more feet to a grate in the vent, she could see they were both dressed head to toe in an orange costume with a thick white line straight down the middle with a lower case 'e' on both their faces and chests. The only other detail on either of them was the black wrist band covered in buttons that fit around their whole forearms.

"Batman has been taken into custody, but he may have a partner or two already in the building."

"So what's our priority?"

"Securing the prisoner."

"We might need more men."

"Then we'll make more."

With that, they both simultaneously pressed a button on their wrist bands and suddenly a human-sized light appeared to stretch from each of them before becoming another person altogether. Where two stood, now there were four. Then all four began to march off in the direction Spoiler could only guess was where they were keeping Batman.

"Okay, so my time traveler theory was a little off, . . . Welp, time to bust out Bats." With that, Spoiler popped the grate and jumped down.

Keeping to the shadows and ducking around corners, Spoiler managed to keep unsee, or at least she had yet to hear 'hey you, stop right there'. But she did see the four marching up to a heavily secured door with a John Marlo copy sitting in front it, reading a magazine.

Once they were close enough Spoiler could hear one of the four inquire about 'the prisoner'.

"Secure inside," was the only response the unmasked John Marlo gave as he jabbed a thumb toward Batman's cell. Spoiler gave it another scrutinizing look before she noticed a security camera live and pointed straight down the hall where she was tucked just around the corner or. She had the strangest feeling that Alfred wasn't going to be able to just bug out the cameras again as he did in the museum. Thankfully, she wasn't in civvies and surrounded by guards and bystanders.

Readying a throwing knife, Spoiler took a deep breath before she jumped from the corner and sent her weapon flying. She managed to hit the camera dead-on, but also managed to attract the attention of all five John Marlos. Busting into a run, Spoiler jumped to kick off the wall to give more force to her punch to the Marlo on the far right. He was out cold in one hit, same with the Marlo she had spun kicked from the moment she landed back to the floor. With similar ease in taking down the other three, Spoiler realized that this guy was really going to try and win by numbers alone.

Rolling her eyes, Spoiler hooked up her handy-dandy auto hacker and squared her shoulders at that satisfying *click* sound of a lock unlocking itself. "Hold on Batman, I'm almost to you."

Just then the door swung ajar enough for her to push it open the rest of the way, showing a dark room with a lone resident inside. However, one look at his bright red hair and gaunt figure, Spoiler felt her jaw drop. "You're not Batman!"

"No. I'm John, John Marlo," the man weakly introduced himself. Spoiler quickly ran inside to help the man stand. He was rail-thin and looked pasty white.

"Holy cow, how long have you been in here?" She asked.

"No clue. None of the 'Everywhere's would tell me anything," John said.

"So you're the original? The one who started all of this?"

"Unfortunately. It started when my quantum field research led to my invention of something I came to call 'the Quamtex'."

"Nice name."

"I thought it was clever. With it, I could charge my quantum particles and replicate another me. My replicas can also split at will. There's also a way for the wearer of a device to recall all the duplicates that any particular clone had made and all those from that one."

"Like cutting a branch from a tree?"

"Fitting analogy. It doesn't even matter the distance."

"Wait, so that's how that art thief disappeared at the art show. He was just recalled by another Marlo." Spoiler put together the new pieces of information. "Wait, could it duplicate objects as well?"

"Easily," O.G. Marlo assured her.

"So that's what he was doing. The weird readings on the paintings, he was duplicating them and stealing the originals. But, why not do the same for Kreg Keleb's work?" Spoiler asked.

"Huh? Kreg Keleb? The artist who had that stroke? It's a touching story, really, but the work was just horrendous. I don't know what Everywhere would want to do with it in the first place," John scratched his head.

"So how did you end up in a cell if all these, what do you keep calling them? Everywheres? If all these Everywheres are copies of you, then why don't they listen to you?"

"Mainly cause they only listen to my first copy. He was my 'breakthrough' as it were. I kept him around to be my lab partner, literally cut my research time in half. Unfortunately, there was a side effect I didn't foresee." John's voice got a little dark here. "You see, if you keep a clone around long enough, they develop a sense of 'free will'. And with each copy, they only seem to get darker and darker."

Suddenly an overhead com could be heard through the cell door. "**Attention, Everywhere Men! The Batman is loose in the building! you know the drill! Divide and Concur!**"

"Alright, time to go!" Spoiler declared, rushing to the door. Just in time to see at least six Everywheres become twelve. They all started to scramble the opposite direction giving her and John just enough time to duck out of the cell and down a hall.

"This way! There's something that might help in my lab," John directed her.

"**Fill the corridors! Find the Bat! Exterminate it!**"

The two managed to duck around the corner to an empty office just as two more Everywheres went from four, to eight, to sixteen. They had to wait a second for the hall to clear before they could get to the lab. Spoiler could clearly see it just a few feet away.

"**By the end of the day, he is but one man. But we? We are an Army!**"

Just as the clones fled the hallway from the left, another set passed through from the right and had another set just behind them.

"Argh, we'll never make it over there by this rate," Spoiler growled under her breath.

"What do we do?" Marlo asked from behind her. Spoiler didn't have an answer for him. The last of the Everywheres finally cleared out and the hero decided it was time for a 'now or never' tactic. Quickly, she grabbed Marlo by his arm and made a mad dash to the lab door, only for it to be locked.

"Crap. Have the key?" She asked the scientist himself.

"Um, no? Kinda been locked up for a couple of months?" He reminded her.

"Oh, right, drat." Spoiler studied the lock really quick to see it was a traditional manual kind. Great. Just her luck. Electronic locks? Easy peasy, plug-in and auto-hackies. She knew how to do it the old-fashioned way, she just wasn't as practiced at it anymore. Trying to let herself just fall into muscle memory, Spoiler pulled out her picking tools and tried to count the pins with her tension wrench to tell which other tools she'd need to open it.

"Maybe he's down this way?" A voice could be heard at the far end of the hall.

"Not to sound rude, but can you speed it up?" Marlo asked.

"Can you pick a lock?" Spoiler responded.

"Um, uh, no, sorry," Marlo backed down.

"Damn, I actually kinda wish you could, . . ."

"Wait, what?"

"You know what? I'll just pull out my handy-dandy rake pick, it's never failed me," Spoiler said decidedly, ignoring how nervous she was making her rescued hostage. "Well, except for the many times it did, . . ."

"Is, is this to get back at me for rushing you?" Marlo's voice was the picture of panic already.

"I think I hear voices!" There were footsteps now, fast and thunderous. Spoiler was able to count no less than five pins and had to wiggle the rake back and forth a bit before she managed to get the lock to turn. By the time she got the door itself open, there were five Everywhere Men rushing them.

"Get in, I'll cover you!" She called out. She didn't really need to as she was also actively shoving him into the lab before closing the door behind him.

"Get her! She's with Batman!"

"He brought a girl this time, huh?"

"What was this one's name again?"

"Who cares? No one will be calling for her after tonight!"

"Um, rude!" Spoiler called out as she quickly went into fighting stance. Same as the pitiful attempt to subdue her before went. Spoiler was able to knock each of the Marlo-Clones out quickly before she followed the real John Marlo into the lab.

"Here! Try this!" Marlo rushed over to her while holding a large device with straps on it. Blinking at it a couple of times and then the frantic look on Marlo's face Spoiler took the device in her hands.

"Alright, what is it?" She asked.

"It's a-"

"**Batman has been spotted by the atrium! All Everywhere Men to the Atrium!**"

"Skip it, we've got to hurry. You swear this will help, then strap me in!" Spoiler decided. Marlo quickly went to work buckling her in and giving her the basic instructions of how to operate it.

Looks like it's time for her usual 'jump first' tactic, yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say that this is well more than just 'inspired' by the 4Kids 'The Batman' episode 4 from season 4 'Everywhere Man'. But there was no spoiler and the message was pretty much just 'be careful of your collections'. But yeah, I didn't want to end up making it Bruce centric or even too John Marlo centric so I didn't want to come up with my own parts for them. All of Steph's parts are me, though lead on a bit by the parts I didn't change. (i.e,- Kae got lazy...)


	15. Four's a Pair part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a lesson to be learned in all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Tim - 18 Stephanie - 18 Bruce - 41

In a giant room with nothing but glass windows for a roof and giant planters that could be mini-parks, Batman was ridiculously outnumbered. With each Everywhere Man proving to be one hit to quit opponents, he was holding his own quite well. The problem was that for everyone that he knocked down, two more would appear out of thin air.

"Oh come now, Batman! How long do you really think you could last? It hardly matters how many of me you break, I'll just make more." The first clone of John Marlo stood, the only one not wearing the orange and white suite, high above the fight at the top of a set of stairs. Batman's only response was to throw smoke grenades at the surrounding Everywhere Men, clearing himself enough space to properly fight again.

"Make more of this!" Spoiler called out from behind him as she ran up from his blind spot. As she gathered his attention, he turned, but only in time to get sucker-punched right in that glass jaw of his. The force of her hit sent him over the stairs and straight to the floor. Unlike the clones of clones, however, this Everywhere was able to get right back up again and glare at her. Then he smirked.

"One more enemy will hardly make a difference against my army," he jeered as two of the costumed Everywhere Men flanked him and then cloned themselves to make four, eight, sixteen, then thirty-two. All of them then immediately started to charge up the stairs at her.

"Then it's a pretty good thing I'm a decent 'Copy-Cat'," Spoiler quipped as she threw her purple cape to the side to show the device around her chest.

"What are you doing with my prototype!?" Everywhere Man shouted in a rage. As if it wasn't obvious, Spoiler felt she might as well as demonstrate exactly what she was doing with his prototype, and pressed the big, fat, 'don't-mess-with-me' button at the center of her chest. She felt a tingly sensation all over as she was copied over and over again until she made a full 128 or so fully stocked Spoiler army.

"As I said, being a 'Copy-cat'." Every Spoiler took a second to enjoy the look of shock and terror on Everywhere Man's face before all her clones when to work, facing off with the John Marlo knock-offs.

As expected, each Spoiler packed the same punch as the original, knocking out Everywhere clones left and right. A small group of them managed to push far enough to back up Batman. Batman was visibly wearing down as the continual onslaught of attackers barred down on him, and so he didn't even bother to hide the relief he felt to see Spoiler. Though he might have had to take a second to cover up the slight confusion he felt to see six of her.

The O.G. Spoiler, however, stood guard at the top of the stairs while the o.g. John Marlo watched on from behind her. They figured with all the fuss going on in the battlefield, no one would notice him up there. They were wrong, of course.

"Well, if it isn't Johnny-boy," Everywhere Man called out to him. "I knew I should have eliminated you when I had the chance. I always was too sentimental."

"True," Marlo answered, "You even saved the Quantum Prototype, that's going to be your downfall."

"There's a reason a 'prototype' is only a prototype. Sometimes it takes an upgrade to get things right." As if Everywhere's words weren't ominous enough, the device on Spoiler's chest began to spark.

"Uh-oh!" She cried out. She was about to try a different button, but Marlo was quick to stop her.

"The unit is over-loaded!" He explained.

"Oh it's worse than that, Johnny," Everywhere Man gathered their attention again. "Your duplicates are unstable!"

Tired of hearing him talk, one of the spoiler clones went to go shut him up. Everywhere just stepped to the side and continued. "One solid punch, and 'poof'!" As he landed his hit, the Spoiler-clone vanished into a small burst of light. The main Spoiler and Marlo both stood in silence. As the sparks died down Spoiler went to try to get at least one more clone out, but the attempt only resulted in more sparks.

"That's it. It's dead," Marlo sighed in remorse. "We're on our own."

"Might as well," Spoiler shrugged and got into a fighting stance, "I was getting bored just watching anyway." With that, Spoiler joined the fight, the device on her chest the only way to tell her apart from her copies. Batman, wearing down and now watching his back up constantly disappearing in a flash of light, realized he had to come up with a new strategy. The main Spoiler met up with Batman at a juncture of two giant planters, just in time to watch as her last two duplicates got thrown into each other _hard_ and then were gone. "Well, that's the last of 'em, . . ."

Batman, not yet on his last leg, managed to pull one of the Everywheres into a headlock, before then moving his grip down to the clone's midsection from above, and finally using his own momentum to pick up and spin the clone as to hit the other duplicates that were trying to surround him. Only for another ten more to take their place. Spoiler managed to get the few around her as she tried to break the circle closing in on Batman, but they were multiplying too much that she was just getting run around instead. A glance up at where the original John Marlo had been standing Spoiler saw two Everywheres grab him from either side as his first clone, Everywhere Man, stalked right up to him. Marlo was at least trying to break free, but it was no use.

"Quiet Johnny-boy, Batman may not know it, but the battle's over," Everywhere Man announced proudly. "It's only a matter of time."

Spoiler was out of throwing knives and she could hear the '_click, click, click_' as Batman tried in vain to get even one more smoke grenade out. She really didn't want to know how this ended, but she could see it was about to end badly. And by a joke who didn't even know how to fight! To hell with all the lessons about numbers don't make the odds!

"Do you hear that?" Batman called out to the other clones. It sounded like _he_ was giving _them_ the warning. "It's only a matter of time."

"Before you're toast!" One of the Everywheres sneered with a point.

"And before you've outlived your usefulness," Batman pointed out. Spoiler immediately got where he was going and kept quiet. "What's Copy No. 1 going to do with so many of you? Where can he hide a 'few hundred' Marlos? And how can he stand the competition? Once the fighting is done, he'll recall each and every one of you. You'll all cease to exist."

There was stunned silence from the Everywhere clones before one of them turned to another and asked, "What if the Batman is right?"

"Don't listen to him!" Everywhere Man ordered, "Keep fighting!"

One of the clones, still loyal to the mastermind, ran forward to launch another attack on Batman, but another clone from behind Bats ran up even faster to intercept the attack. "Hey, think about it! If _we _win this _we're _toast!"

The intercepted clone wasn't swayed. "Shut-up, you traitor!" He cried out before attacking the turn-coat clone that had just stopped him.

"If one of us survives, we all do!" Another loyal tried to pacify his skeptical brothers.

"Then you won't mind if I'm the one surviving?" A Traitorous clone asked as he attacked him from behind.

There were duplicates turning on each other all around Spoiler and Batman before another betrayal shouted out louder than the rest. "The Quamtex! So long as _he_ has it, none of us are safe!" The clone speaking was, of course, pointing straight up at Everywhere Man.

"You're playing right into his hand!" Everywhere Man cried out in disbelief.

"Don't worry, we'll protect you," assured two more loyals as they moved to stand guard in front of him.

"But they all look alike," the captured Marlo pointed out, "how will you know 'who's with you' and 'who's against you'?"

Everywhere Man unconsciously took a step back from his own loyal guards as he looked at all the many orange and white costumed copies of himself. Spoiler was about to add her own two cents when a few of the Everywheres that had her surrounded just a bit ago all ran straight up the stairs.

"Get the Quamtex!" "We have to stop him!" "I'll get it!" "We can't let him use it!"

The sheer number of them barreled through the weak defense that the two loyal clones had tried to put up. They pushed through, backing Everywhere Man up to a wall as he hovered his finger hesitantly over the recall button.

"N-no, stop, don't make me do it!" He called out, probably realizing that if he called them back straight away, then _all _his clones would turn against him. Seeing as they were unmoved and continued to advance, Everywhere Man quickly jabbed the recall and the entire atrium turned into a light show as all the clones disappeared in the same flash of light as Spoilers, newest to oldest. Soon enough the once crowded room was filled only with four people. Batman and Spoiler both had the same idea to skip the stairs and used grappling hooks to reach Everywhere Man before he could go anywhere.

"You haven't won _yet_, Batman!" Spoiler always thought that line was a good sign that they had, indeed, already won.

"You're not really thinking you'll fight us alone now, are you?" She asked with a smirk.

"Then I'll create another army of 'Everywhere Men'," the clone cried out.

"With the same result," Batman remarked, glaring down on the fool.

"Then, I'll recall it, and start over, as many times as I have to," the panic was really starting to sink in now as the clone made a frantic strategy. "Eventually you'll fall!" Just as the clone raised this arm device to do just that, the real John Marlo snatched his hand from the side and wrestled it away from him.

"Will you _please,_ shut-up?" He asked just as he pressed the recall button one more time, causing the copy to disappear, finally ending the long night of fighting. Marlo fell to his knees in exhaustion, months of being trapped in a cell catching up to him. "I thought I could help people everywhere, but I guess in the end, I'm just a 'nowhere man'."

"That's a pretty good song, actually," Spoiler quipped. From the dirty look she got from Bats and the complete look of befuddlement she received from Marlo she had a feeling that was poorly timed on her behalf. "Sorry. Moment of quiet self-reflection. Got it."

* * *

The next day Steph walked her sore way up the manor steps and knocked on the heavy wooden door. This time, when it opened, it was Bruce, not Alfred to greet her.

"Oh, uh, guess you've discovered my super not-so-secret way of sneaking into the batttsment-erm, basement," she joked half-heartedly as she scratched the side of her head. She was expecting a glare at the least and a full-on door slam in her face at the most. What she didn't expect was Bruce stepping to the side to let her in.

Not sure what was going to happen, Steph walked on in and followed Bruce to his study. Once in the secure sound-proof room, she knew that they were now free to talk without worry of being overheard. That Bruce brought her here meant he had something he wanted to lecture her about, and that it pertained to their night-time activities.

"Stephanie, last night there were a lot of lessons to be had. I wonder if you were able to see all the same ones I did," Bruce quizzed her. Steph bit her lip and looked down at the floor.

"'Jump first and strategize second' should be held for emergencies, like when you've been surrounded by a continuously growing number of enemies and you're out of ammo?" She listed the first one from right on top of her head. Sure, she winged the whole thing with that prototype, but in the end, it just led to them fighting more than they really had to.

"Good, and what else?" Bruce asked.

"Well, it was a good refresher of your whole, 'numbers don't make the odds' spiel," Steph added.

"And?" Now Stephanie was stuck. She looked up at him confused. What other lesson was there in all of last night? Be careful of how many times you clone yourself? Practice more lock-picking? Let the 'still-in-shock' rescued hostage have their terrible one-liner?

"I'm lost, you lost me," Steph admitted.

Bruce took a long inhale before he looked Steph in the eye and explained where he was going with his 'lecture'.

"Yes, you need to practice thinking before you act. You have a knack for thinking on your feet, which is in truth an invaluable asset, but it might take you the long way around if you don't go in with a plan first. And you're right, last night was a perfect example of why numbers don't make the victor. The real lesson that_ I_ took away from last night, however, was that when you don't give your partners a proper reason to follow you, you're only creating your own enemies." Steph followed and realized he was talking about how easy it was to turn an entire army against its commander. Easiest it had ever been in fact. Bruce put a hand on Steph shoulder and got her attention back to him. "I see now that I have been overly harsh, and so far that has only led to all my most trusted companions working behind my back. You are a great hero, and they are your friends just as much as your teammates. It was unfair of me to try and push them to lock you out. Besides, as irresponsible as you can be, you have still come through for this family more times than I can count."

Steph didn't know how to respond. Sure, her dad was a criminal, just like Cas and Jason, but unlike them, he was never abusive and Steph never felt the need to look for a new father figure to look up to. Hell, the reason Arthur Brown even became 'the Clue Master' to begin with was that he was trying to provide a better life for his wife and daughter. The wrong way, sure, but still, Steph didn't need a new father figure as the others did with a dad like hers. But to have Bruce Wayne stand there and look her in the eyes and acknowledge her, it felt like the same feeling she got when her own dad praised her when he found out she went into crime-fighting.

Tears welling up in her eyes and a goofy smile on her face, Steph did the only thing she could think of. Ruin the moment. "What do you mean by irresponsible? I'm perfectly responsible!"

Bruce gave a small, tight-lipped smile back. "Do I really need to remind you who was supposed to be watching the boys during the 'Billiard Ball' incident?" He asked.

"Hey, you called me to unlock the door for you because you lost your keys, I didn't think they could cause such a mess by me being out of the room for five freaking seconds!" Steph tried to sound defensive, but she couldn't help the giggles that broke up her acting. The two stood there and chuckled to themselves for a moment.

"Alright. That's out of the way, I've reinstated your pass-codes. You should be able to get into the cave without having to bother poor Alfred anymore," Bruce announced as he started for the door.

"Wait, did you ever figure out what Everywhere was trying to pull with Keleb's paintings?" Steph asked.

Bruce paused with his hand on the door handle, "John's returned all the art Everywhere stole and even donated his own personal collection to the museum. Unfortunately, the only thing he found of the three paintings by Kreg Keleb was thirty thousand dollars wired to him from an unknown buyer. He's since passed that money on to the owners who lost them. Two of them at least. Batman's talked him out of going to Sionis about his missing 'Lion's Dreamscape'." With that, Bruce left the study.

Steph waited for a second longer before wiping off her face with her sleeve and then pulled out her phone.

It rang a couple of times before Tim finally answered.

"Is it life or death?" He asked with a scratchy voice that told her he was still in bed.

"Thank you," she told him. She could hear him shifting in bed a little as he got comfortable again.

"For what?"

"You knew that what B and I really needed was a new chance to reconnect. That's why you bailed, isn't it?" Steph referenced to when Tim chose to leave the mission up to Batman and Spoiler.

"Actually, there was another part of what I found a couple of nights ago I wanted to look into. You two having the stolen art thief covered freed me up to look into something a bit nastier," Tim explained, "So really I should be thanking you."

"Alright, then, let's have it," Stephanie joked.

"Maybe some other time. Night." The line went dead as Tim hung up on her. Steph just rolled her eyes and smiled. All was right with her world again, she'll worry about the small stuff later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, DUUUUUUNNNN! What is Tim going to look into? Don't worry about it, I've got other things planned for your reading pleasure. That's just a thread for a future chapter later on, so keep it in mind but don't go 'looking' for it. It'll just drive you mad. I've actually done a few of these 'loose threads' in previous chapters but this one was harder to hide away or make discreet. Then again I think a few of you already picked up on them. ^_^''
> 
> So I hope you guys don't mind that this one was Steph centric. I'm blonde, blue-eyed, and my last name is Brown, so to have the one and only in cannon Fem!Robin be so close to me in both personality, background, and looks, she's a character I really love and HAD to incorporate into the story just as all the other Robins.


	16. The Cat Houdini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back when Tim was Nightling he had an understandably normal problem for a teenage boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Tim - 15 Stephanie - 15

Tim let himself be dragged into the small building by Stephanie. The blonde one of the pair insisted the two of them needed to get out of the cave and do something together that had nothing to do with their nightly activities, thus she decided they should volunteer at the local animal shelter. Tim was not enthusiastic about cleaning animal cages and litter boxes, but he figured that he must be hitting puberty cause lately he hasn't been able to tell a single pretty girl the word 'no' for a few months now. At least this was just extra chores that Steph plans to do with him. It wasn't nearly as humiliating as when Ariana at school asked if he'd stand in for Gregory as school mascot for the last football game of the session. Yeah, once Peter Oshwits found out, he didn't waste time tackle driving Tim to the ground mid-game, and that's not even bringing up what was waiting for him in the locker room. Tim shuttered at the memory as Steph signed them in. He'd take litter boxes and dog poop over _that_ any day.

"Hello! I'm Steph, I called about the volunteer program yesterday?" Steph introduced herself to the lady behind the desk in the lobby if the Animal Shelter. The lady was somewhat short for a grown adult, though still a couple of inches taller than Tim, and had extremely short magenta hair that was spiked up in every direction except the front. She wore a lime-green sleeveless turtle neck shirt with an open black vest that had deep pockets bulging with items. Around her neck were thick plastic beads that matched the clunky earrings. Her make-up was a bit extreme and her brows replaced with pencil lines. All in all, she looked like 'Karen' and 'Kathy's outrageous cousin 'Karmen'. Tim wasn't sure if there was a meme for such a person, but he decided he'd just make up one for himself.

Tim shifted in place behind Steph as a tiny 'mew' caught his attention. Looking to the corner, Tim saw a giant cage with a full-grown tabby laying at the bottom, looking up at him with tired eyes, as no less than thirteen of the tiniest kittens Tim had ever seen crawled and climbed about. There were six of them scaling the cage itself and one of them was even at the very top, hanging upside-down and 'walking' around it like that was just how gravity worked.

"Yes, just fill out these safety forms and personal info and we can use you in the 'Cat Room'," 'Karmen' replied to Steph with a wide smile as she handed Stephanie a clipboard.

"Shouldn't these guys be in the 'cat room'?" Tim asked, pointing to the cage of spider-cats.

"Oh-no, Gabby there just gave birth to them a couple of days ago, they're still nursing so there is a strict 'no adoption' clause on them for now. So they get the lobby to themselves." After explaining, Karmen took the clipboard the Steph was returning and lead them to the door to the north side of the building. As the three of them entered, Tim was not at all surprised to find it stank of kitty litter and cat food.

"I'll go ahead and have you two clean boxes and refill food and water trays," Karmen decided. "As you can see, each cage has a label telling you the names and health records of each of the cats; yellow labels are the aggressive ones so you can skip those. I'll have Lane come in later to get them. Also, keep an eye on the ones with a green sticker on the label, those are the 'escape artist' and have a tendency to scamper off if given a chance." As Karmen said this, Tim's eyes landed on a pink label with green stickers plastering the entire border of the paper. The name read 'Nights' and the cat in the cage was a slick black with only one white, wavey stripe going down the side of its face; from just above its left eye, down its nose, and then curving down its right jaw-line. The cat, 'Nights', just blinked up at him with a twitch of its tail.

"The litter is in this closet, along with the litter scoops, plastic bags, and brooms for sweeping up when you're done. Food is in the bin by the door and there is a spout next to that for water. Good luck, you two." With that, Karmen left the room to get back to her desk job.

Tim and Steph decided to split the work in half by bisecting the room. Tim almost felt bad when he realized Steph's side had more pink labels and thus more cages to clean, but he figured that it was her idea to begin with, and he could make it up by sweeping the floor of the entire room to make it even. As they worked, Tim tried to avoid touching the cats as much as possible. He really wasn't much of an animal lover; the smallness of the living creatures, the way you could see their bones shift as they moved, the unpredictable nature of their disposition, he wasn't a fan. Which also might explain his aversion to babies now that he thought about it. Steph, on the other hand, was coo'ing and cuddling every kitty she could.

"Who's a handsome furry devil? D'aw, he's purring! I think he loves me!" Steph paused her work to cradle a large ginger cat. Tim saw the name on its label was 'Jorge', and he felt it was a horrible waste of a perfect 'Garfield' reference.

"You know, if you keep playing with them, you'll never get done, right?" Tim pointed out to her as he finished up yet another cage. Thankfully, none of the cats on his side were overly friendly, and each seemed to keep their distance from him as much as he kept his distance from them.

"Tim, that's half the point to volunteering at the Animal Shelter. Mom's allergic to cats and my dad only ever kept dogs for, well, let's just say they weren't the best cuddle buddies. Volunteering at the shelter lets you spend some time with a furry companion before having to head home to loneliness," Steph explained as she proceeded to do her job with one hand, as she was still cradling 'Jorge' in her left arm.

"You're lonely Steph?" Tim asked, hearing something a bit more in Steph's monolog than she meant to say.

"Aren't you?" She responded. Tim frowned at that. He had to take a second to think about his response.

"Well, it's not really 'lively' at the manor, but it's actually pretty similar to how things were before my parents passed away. Really, I doubt I'm the loneliest guy out there," Tim settled with as a response.

"I didn't ask if you were the 'loneliest guy' Tim, I asked if you were 'lonely'," Steph pointed out as she put Jorge back into his now clean cage.

"Where is this even coming from?" Tim asked with a furrow in his brow. Was this just another attempt from Bruce and Steph to try and get Tim and Damian to get along? How many times does he have to point out that it's not his fault that his older 'brother', as Bruce would insist, was a raging psychopath?

"Nothing, never mind," Steph moved to the next cage and Tim went back to his work.

Tim was at the second to last of his cages, and Steph was still near the front of hers, so Tim figured he'd hurry up with this one and get over to the other side to help her. Not really paying any attention to the card or the cat, Tim readied his plastic bag and scoop before opening the cage door. He began to clean the cage as he had for all the others before the cat with-in jumped out.

"Hey, wait!" Tim cried out, dropping the items in his hands to try and lung for the black streak of shadow that slipped underneath the cages before scampering into the open closet.

"What happened?" Steph asked, turning from where she was about to open the cage of a white and brown calico.

"The cat just jumped out and ran!" Tim exclaimed, pointing to the closet he was sure he saw the feline run into.

"Which one? I mean, what did it look like?" Steph asked following the direction Tim pointed in. Tim looked at the label on the cage and felt his heart drop. It was 'Nights' cage, the one with all the green stickers. The one the shelter gave him all the warnings about running.

"It's black with a white streak down its face," Tim recalled, describing the cat he saw before they started.

"I'm not seeing any cat's in here," Steph called out, Tim went over to look with her. The closet was actually well lit, and well-stocked, so they figured he could probably be hiding in between the items on the shelves. It was only out the corner of Tim's eye as he went to shift around Steph that he saw the black mass back in the middle of the cat room, trying to push open the door.

"He's there!" Tim called out, running after it. The cat just shot through, right between his legs before jumping up one of the cages and climbing the sides, his momentum helping him reach the top before either Tim or Steph could grab him.

"What the heck!?" Steph shouted as she watched the cat get to the top and instantly start to dash across it, lunging between the gaps in the cages to get around the room. When the cat got to the end, it didn't hesitate to just jump down to the food bin before launching itself toward the door latch, the swing of its lower body actually providing just enough momentum to pull the door open just a sliver of a crack. That seemed to be all it needed before the cat landed on its hind paws before quickly using the front two to pry open the door just enough to fit its head trough, and like that, Nights was gone.

"What the hell? Was that Batman in a cat transformation?" Steph exclaimed in utter disbelief.

"I'll go after him, you finish up here," Tim called over to her before running out the door himself.

Once in the lobby, Tim was instantly in detective mode, and the first thing he noticed was Karmen, sitting at her, not even looking up.

"Um, excuse me, uh, one of the cats got away from us, did you see which way he went by any chance?" Tim asked. Karmen looked up in a bit of a startle before seeming to think over his words.

"The cat wouldn't be little ol' Nights now, would it?" She asked suspiciously. Tim just nodded and she sighed. "He needs to just hurry up and get adopted by a magician or something. You might find him by the kennels, there's a golden retriever named 'Mit' that he's fond of, or the bird cages in the back near a red canary with the name tag 'Frayer', he's been trying to get into that one for a while now. Don't really know if it's to play with it or eat it or both. Either way, good luck and godspeed, I've got some more paperwork to do." Tim frowned. That wasn't exactly the kind of reaction or information he had expected for a runaway cat, but it'll have to do.

Taking a chance on the southern door, Tim found a few small dog cages with little lapdogs in them. There was another door to the end but it was closed. Even if Nights knew how to open the doors, he didn't seem to be taking time to close them again, nor would he really be able too. Also, the dogs in this room were all pretty relaxed until they saw Tim enter, so chances were that they hadn't just seen a cat either. So Tim decided to save time and bank on the cat not having been in there, and instead went down the hall behind the desk and then took a left. This took Tim down between a couple of offices before he heard loud barking and growling. Following the sound, Tim found a swinging door that led to a giant room filled with bigger kennels and large dogs, each one losing their mind over something. Realizing this was a back way into the very room he wasted time going the long way to get into, Tim tried to find 'Mit' the golden retriever. Looking over each of the cages, Tim couldn't see a single dog of that specific breed. He found a yellow lab named 'Rilo', but no retriever. Then he noticed an empty cage with an open door. furrowing his brow, Tim walked closer to it to read the label on it. Pink, green stickers, 'Mit' the golden retriever. Crud.

So, Nights already broke in and broke out his friend. The good news is that a dog would be a lot easier to spot than just a cat, the bad news is, if Nights went through so much trouble to get Mit out, then the last thing Tim should do was underestimate Mit the way he did Nights.

. . .

It was in thinking this that Tim reminded himself that he was talking about a CAT and a DOG for crying out loud! Shaking his head at himself he decided to keep his sense of disbelief suspended until further notice, after all it _is_ Gotham, and tried to think about the next step. He got his dog friend out, now he might try for the bird.

Tim took off using the door he didn't bother with before coming back into the lapdog room, making his way through into the lobby. There he saw Karmen stapling a few pieces of paper together and Steph leaning over and talking with her. She paused mid-speech when she looked up and saw him. Tim didn't get a single word out before Steph pointed back down the hall he had already gone through.

"You're not helping?" Tim asked incredulity.

"You mean, am I leaving this for you to 'finish up' like I 'finished up' the cat room?" Steph asked with a deadpan expression.

"Uh, well, I, um, ..."

"Save it and find that cat already so we can go home," Steph waved him off and went back to her conversation with Karmen. Tim rolled his eyes and made his way back down the hall. Tim supposed that he should have seen this coming the moment he left Steph behind, but now it was officially his mess to clean up.

Taking the right where he last went left, Tim passed by a small nurse's office looking room on his way to the 'Bird Room' in the back. Strangely enough, 'Bird Room' was more 'Caged Animal' room as the cages seemed to hold rabbits and guinea pigs as well as birds. Checking over each empty cage for any labels, Tim saw a large yellow shape and ducked down out of sight. He raised just enough to see through the cage of a grey rabbit named 'Gru', and from there he saw Nights leap up Mit's back to a hanging birdcage with a bright red canary.

Tim watched as Nights latched one clawed paw on the side of the cage to pull it closer as he used the other one to paw at the door. From the inside, the bird used his talons to hold himself next to the very door that the cat was trying to claw its way into, and began to use its beak to try and help keep hold of the deadbolt latch as the cat tried to paw it back enough that the bird could let go and not risk the bolt falling back into the locking position. Tim watched transfixed as the three animals worked together, the bird waiting for the cat to get the bolt far enough for the wire door to swing open. Once the door was opened, the canary shot off, flying around the room before landing on a window seal.

Instead of trying to catch the bird, the cat simply jumped down from the dog and began to walk back toward the entrance. The moment it rounded the corner and saw Tim, however, every hair on it's back shot straight up and the next moment was completely out of Tim's control. Nights darted back around where the dog had been slowly following it, confusing the hell out of the golden retriever, and then shot up a cage again, as the bird began to tweet frantically. Or maybe it was laughing?

Tim went to take a step forward, but the dog did the same to get between Tim and the cat, only for said cat to overestimate how much weight the particular tower of animal cages could hold, leading to the downward tilt of four thin cages with hamsters and guinea pigs. Tim moved as fast as he could as the dog just jumped out of the way. Nights, the cat, lost his grip on the unexpected shift of gravity and just barely landed on his feet before Tim managed to catch the entire row of animals, lifting the heavy cages back into its upright position, and making sure the pets within were alright. None of them seemed hurt, but they were all huddled into corners as much as they could be. Sighing in relief, Tim turned back around only to see that the three culprits were gone.

Grumbling to himself, Tim got going again, trying to figure out in his mind where they might have run off to. As he walked out of the room, getting tired of chasing animals around like an idiot, Tim walked by the 'nurses station' looking room again, this time he froze. There were all three, sitting in front of a caged rabbit with reddish fur. Tim crept in, closing and locking the door behind him as he did so. All four animals shot their gaze at him the moment they heard the 'click' of the latch and Tim tensed. He waited for them to make a move, but the door really was the only exit, and the room was too small for the animals to run around him even if there was.

Instead of making another attempt at freedom, Nights the cat crept up to the caged rabbit and pushed his paw between the bars. Frayer the bird hopped forward and did the same with its face. Mit the dog kept back with his head low. Tim frowned and slowly walked forward, kneeling down to the rabbit cage to read the papers there.

'Name: Ally. Ailment: Recovery from Amputation of back leg. Known Cause/s: leg caught on fire at previous owner's, taken away from abusive home. Estimated Recovery Time: four weeks'.

After Tim read the papers he looked back to the impossible animals that came together to defy all logic and limits in order to be there for their unlikely friend. Suddenly Tim felt an empty part of his heart throb and his eyes sting a little.

_'I didn't ask if you were the 'loneliest guy' Tim, I asked if you were 'lonely'._

Steph's words echoed in his mind. Ever since his last interaction with Damian, Tim might have begun a bad habit of pushing people away and ignoring his own needs. If he gave himself time for reflection before now, he might have realized that he had been trying to force himself to be someone he thought Damian might like, or even just somewhat tolerate. It was only natural, right? Nightling had been Tim's hero since he was four and the young sidekick first debuted. If Tim was going through something like Ally the rabbit, could Tim ever hope that Damian would rally together with Bruce and Steph the same way Nights the cat did with Frayer the bird and Mit the dog?

Said dog put his head on Tim's lap and the boy smiled as he scratched Mit behind the ears. What was he thinking? Of course, he could. Damian was bitter for now, but surely if they just gave it a bit more time, Tim knows he could at the very least depend on Damian to be there as Shadowbat should Tim ever be in actual need. Even if the emotional connection wasn't there, that was enough for him.

"Come on, guys. Your friend needs her rest and the three of you need to get back to where you should be," Tim announced. He didn't know if they understood him or if they had already decided this on their own, but Tim had absolutely no problems getting Frayer back into his birdcage and Mit back into his kennel. Nights, on the other hand, wasn't quite ready to call it a day and jumped up on Karmen's desk the moment the two cut through the lobby to get to the cat room.

"I see you found him," Karmen joked as she began to stroke his soft fur.

"Come on, you little jerk, I thought we agreed," Tim frowned at the feline.

"I've got him, you go ahead and head home," Karmen waved him off.

"So where did you find him?" Steph asked.

"He got the dog and the bird and the three of them were in the nurse's room hanging out with a rabbit named 'Ally'," Tim explained. Steph furrowed her brow and tilted her head at him, not quite believing his story.

"Ah, yeah, they did seem pretty curious when she came in. Probably adopted her into their little gang of sorts. I swear, Gotham does some pretty weird things to the strays around here," Karmen nodded her head as she continued to pet the cat on her desk.

"Well, we better get going, it was nice to meet you, Miss Cecily," Steph called out as she took Tim's arm and aimed him out the door. He was confused for a moment before he remembered that 'Karmen' was just a name he came up with because of how she looked and he never actually got her name. He shrugged it off.

The two got on a public bus back into town where Steph was going to walk home and Tim was going to hail a cab back to the manor. During the bus ride, Steph looked over to Tim with a smug grin and asked if he'd like to volunteer there again sometime.

"No," Tim stated with a straight face and a dead serious voice. Steph pretended to pout all the way to the next bus stop, but Tim was all smiles at having reclaimed his lost ability. No more standing in as mascot for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, with there being only four chapters left before you guys are caught up for the hiatus with my FFN readers, I'm going to slow down the updates to one a week. That'll mean no more updates after this month until February.


	17. Detective Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason thinks adults are dumb and there's something off about Nightling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Jason-10

It was always easiest when his dad wasn't home. Jason didn't have to worry about getting kicked off the T.v. or yelled about something stupid. When his dad wasn't home, Jason was pretty much allowed to do whatever he wanted. He was allowed to eat the cereal out of the box (so long as he cleaned up the evidence), he was allowed to stay up late (so long as he wasn't still sleeping when he wasn't supposed to be in the apartment), and he could watch whatever he wanted on the television (so long as it wasn't too loud and upsetting his neighbors). Yeah, Jason knew as far as most kids went in his city, he had it pretty good.

At that very moment, Jason was doing all three things, sitting cross-legged, bag of off-brand fruit-loops in lap, nose almost pressed to the screen as he watched his favorite cartoon. When it was over, the news came on and Jason watched it too, though with less interest. Between all the boring things the news anchors had to say, and fluff pieces they were reporting on, finally, they said something interesting.

"Thank you, Harper, for that report, now for the Batman-fan some great news comes to us from some local citizens and their candid camera evidence that the long noted absence of Batman's young sidekick 'Nightling' seems to now be over. The footage shows the darkened silhouette long associated with the night-time protector jumping between roof-tops with a smaller shadow, showing to also bare a cape. Some officials estimate that the young squire of justice might have been benched due to injury, or maybe was even just taking time to catch up on his studies. Whatever his reason, we are all grateful to know that Nightling is alright."

Jason frowned at the footage the channel showed. It was pretty poor quality, and the guy was shaking a lot from not having been watching the sky to begin with, but there was something off about the kid the news reporters just called Nightling. Jason couldn't quite put his finger on it. When the reporters went on to a fluff piece about some big charity event to be hosted by some rich family, Jason flipped the t.v. off and decided to go to bed early that night. He had something he wanted to look up at the library as soon as it opened the next day.

* * *

Thomas and Andy were jerks, but they were the closest thing to friends Jason could find in his neighborhood, and if it was one lesson his dad gave him free, it was that a guy needs 'friends'. Andy's dad was a friend of Jason's and Thomas' uncle was one of their 'bosses' for lack of a better word. Mainly, Willis Todd and Morri Grande both answered to Mac Dilinhaul, and Dilinhaul went up to another guy who answered to someone bigger. And so goes the chain of command. Jason once asked his dad who he ultimately works for and were they as big-time as 'Joker' or 'Black Mask'. His dad beat him until he was purple all over and told him to never ask questions about his work ever again.

So here was Jason, stuck with his assigned friends, son's of gang members that were his age, that liked to boss him around because his dad was the lowest on the 'food chain'. Jason thought that was bull considering Andy's dad was his dad's equal, but Andy pointed out that Mr. Grande had more lackey's and therefore made him more important. In the end, Jason tried to keep on good terms with his 'friends' without ever really spending time with them. This was made easier because Thomas and Andy seemed to have an allergy to the public library and neither of them knew that Jason knew, and liked, how to read. Whenever Jason needed to get away from reality, the local library was there for him on all fronts.

Having been kicked out of the apartment so that the three men could have their work meeting, Jason was already stuck with Tom and Andy for the day. Listening to Thomas claim to know exactly what their fathers were talking about, claiming that there was going to be a hold up somewhere in the financial district, Andy listened on with the 'appropriate' amount of impression, while Jason rolled his eyes and yawned. When he was called out for not believing Thomas, Jason pointed out there was a hold up somewhere in the financial district every other day, and that if Thomas wanted to impress Jason, he'd have to get specific.

Now Jason learned by now, that when a person can't live up to their own hype, they tend to get really mad, really quick when they are called out on it. Thinking that it'd be a good punishment for Jason questioning him, Thomas and Andy then ditched the ten-year-old in the middle of Robbinson Park and went to go practice pocket-picking. Jason just made his happy way to the library where he was finally going to get a chance to look over the local newspaper archives like he was hoping for.

The first time Jason ever came into the local library, with no adult, no shoes, and no real interest in the books, the librarian at the counter immediately set on running him out. That was before Mrs. Fitzgerald, the elderly head librarian overheard and came to his rescue. Knowing that the library was a common sanctuary for people with no-where to be, Mrs. Fitzgerald came along acting like she knew Jason his whole life, saying things like; "You're late for your lessons, Young Man". Jason was only seven at the time and was so taken aback by it all that he ended up playing along with his 'yes, Ma'am's' and 'I'm sorry, Ma'am's'. After that Mrs. Fitzgerald then started taking time out of her day to actually teach Jason to read, and Jason actually gave the effort to learn. And thus Jason's love of reading began.

Three years later, Mrs. Fitzgerald watched the young man walk into his second home and right up to her desk.

"Good morning, Jason, would you like another reading lesson today? We're awfully slow, I wouldn't mind going over something things with you if you'd like?" Fitzgerald offered.

"Nah, Thank ya, Mizus Fitz, I was hoping I could read some ol' newspapers? There was something I was curious 'bout from the news the oth'r night," Jason made his request.

"Oh, newspapers? My, that must be an interesting question if you're willing to brave those long and boring articles," Mrs. Fitzgerald smiled before standing up from behind her desk and walking around to lead Jason to the newspaper archive. "Now, everything thing is cataloged by year, of course, but we have a small cheat sheet Miss Abby keeps updated per week. What is your inquiry about?"

"Well, I wanted to find something about Nightling, from a few months ago, if I can?"

"Ah, that is a rather interesting topic, now isn't it? He's rather popular with the children, so Miss Abby keeps a separate index for Batman and his young sidekick here in the back where it's easy to find," Mrs. Fitzgerald explained as she pulled a large three-ring binder open to the back pages where, in neat handwriting, there were the words 'Gotham Heroes' and a long list beneath it labeling dates with either 'Batman', 'Nightling', 'Batgirl', or 'other' next to it. Usually, the three names would be grouped together, either in pairs or all three, but sometimes they'd be solo.

"Which one will have a picture with Batman and Nightling side-by-side? A newer one, of I can," Jason narrowed down his search.

"Well, let's see. Looks like Nightling has been out of the news for a couple of months now, and his last few sightings were with Batgirl, so we'll have to go back almost a year ago. Here, August 4th, Nightling and Batman. As for the picture you're wanting, we'll have to just go find the article and look at it with our own eyes," Mrs. Fitzgerald said as she moved to a wall of filing cabinets with dates on the index cards in front of her. She scanned the cards until she found the one of the previous three years and then opened it to flip through the 36 months stored inside until she found the headline they were looking for. "Ah-ha, looks like you're in luck, Jason."

Jason moved to stand next to the librarian and looked at the picture on the cover as she held it to him. He narrowed his eyes and frowned. It looked like his suspicions were right, Nightling in this photo was almost as tall as Batman, if not exactly as tall as him. Using his pinky as a ruler, Jason could see that as far as this image showed, Nightling's feet went from the base of his palm to the second knuckle of his little finger. Same for Batman.

"What is it that you're doing, Jason?" Mrs. Fitzgerald asked.

"Do you have a copy of the photo they showed last night?" Jason asked in turn instead of answering her.

"Um, well, if we do, it'd be in the newest edition, wouldn't it?" Mrs. Fitzgerald pointed out as she replaced the August paper and moved to the file beneath it with the current year on it. Opening the file she pulled out that morning's paper and flipped through until she found the article in question. It was small and to the side, after all, it was just another 'Bat-sighting'. Nightling being there after so long was just enough for it to get a mention. Jason did the same thing, using his pinky to measure, though now, while Batman from head to foot went the length of his first two knuckles, Nightlying was only just past the first.

"They're different kids, . . ." Jason muttered his discovery.

"Oh? Are you certain? The perspective could just be thrown off by the angle, after all, how many roof jumping, crime-fighting children are out there?" Mrs. Fitzgerald 'pointed out'. Jason frowned at that. Something seemed off about calling 'Nightling', or at least the 'previous' Nightling, a child.

"I think I understand how to do it now, Mizus Fitz, thank ya," Jason smiled at her and then walked back over to the archive index.

"Well then, you're always such a quick study, Jason, if you need anything I'm on desk duty today," Mrs. Fitzgerald said before she gave him a pat on the shoulder and made her way back to work.

Jason made a show of flipping between a couple of pages before being certain that Fitzgerald wasn't paying any mind to him anymore. He flipped back to the Heroes page and dragged his finger down the dates mentioning 'Batman'. He didn't stop until his finger landed on the first 'Nightling' on the list. The date was just a year before Jason was even born. Already the math wasn't adding up.

Repeating the date under his breath, Jason found the cabinet and then the file, and then the month. Pulling out the newspaper of the particular day, Jason saw the headline was criticizing Batman for having such a young child fight crime with him. The image showed a black and white with Batman and a kid in cape talking to the police commissioner, some guy in a weird costume was being escorted into a car in handcuffs. Doing his pinky test again, Jason got a similar measurement to the newest picture.

Why is it that none of the adults were taking into account the fact that Nightling showed up as a kid _eleven years ago_, and yet was showing up as a kid _now_? Putting Nightling at ten when he first debuted as a guess, he'd be officially old enough to drink _that year_. A new set of theories entered Jason's head. At first, he had to wonder if maybe the previous Nightling died, but something a bit more likely came to mind. Putting the paper back and going back to the index, Jason looked at the more recent sightings of Nightling before he was 'replaced'. Jason could see that he had been seen less and less with Batman, and more and more on his own. He was growing up and becoming a hero all on his own.

Jason mulled this over for a sec. What if, he figured, Nightling had officially outgrown being a sidekick? What if he had tried to strike it out on his own in Gotham? What if none of the adults or media took him seriously because they were so used to him being so young? What if the first Nightling gave up Nightling in favor of letting Batman train a new sidekick and he himself was now a new hero all his own?

There was a moment of doubt in his own theory when Jason tried to look up one of the 'other' heroes, only to find they were Heroes from other cities visiting Gotham such as Superman or Green Arrow. None of which could be the previous Nightling. That was until Jason realized that Nightling might have wanted to find a city all his own instead of being under Batman's foot all the time. That actually made more sense really.

Now completely convinced that this new 'Nightling' was just some replacement for the old one, Jason put everything back exactly as he found it, and made his way back home, hoping his dad's 'meeting' was over.

* * *

Jason sat in the living room just shaking his head in both irritation and disbelief. His mom was holding him as if to try and console him as the two watched a live report of Batman and Nightling helping haul goons with handcuffs into a police van. Willis Todd was clearly seen as the first to be packed away. Jason glared at the screen as his old man was shoved in.

"Don't be angry at them, Jason, they're just upholding the law," his mom said as she petted his hair. She mistook his glare to be for Batman and Nightling. Maybe it was better that way. She had spent most of Jason's life trying to be a mediator of sorts between her two boys, always trying to keep the peace in their family. All Jason could think of was how much more peaceful it was going to be with his dad in jail where he can't spend his mom's money or start yelling for no reason. The more he thought about it, the more Jason realized just how much of a good thing this was actually going to be for them. If he could send fan-mail to Batman and the replacement Nightling, then he'd be happy to do so!

Feeling everything was heading in an upward direction, it took Jason completely off-guard when his mom wouldn't wake up the next morning...


	18. Jason Meet Nightling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason meets his hero, in less than desirable circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Jason - 12 Tim - 14

It had been two years since his mom O.D.'d on her medication.

23 months since Jason was evicted because they were already behind on rent and now there was no money coming in.

20 months since Mrs. Haggle next door got caught helping a local gang with their money-laundering scheme and Jason couldn't sleep on her couch anymore.

18 months since Jason realized that he really had no friends in Gotham and Tommy and Andy would only help him in turn for 'favors'.

16 months since Jason got caught trying to do one of these 'favors' and was taken to Juvie.

One year since he was released into social services and put into foster care.

10 months since he was blamed for stealing something from the lady who watched over him and six other kids, getting him sent back to juvie for another few months.

5 months since he got released for a second time and taken to a new home.

4 months since he ditched that place.

3 months since he last had a proper shower.

2 months since he last pick-pocketed enough cash for a proper meal.

1 month since he stopped looking people in the eye.

Three weeks since he lost his jacket.

Two weeks since he stopped trying to get warm.

One week since he gave up.

Three days waiting to die in the gutter.

One hour of trying to will enough energy to move his hand to block the sunlight from his eyes.

"Well, look at what we's got here, Andy," Tommy's voice grated on Jason, all the way down to his gut. Nothing good ever came from these two.

"Looks like a bit'o gutter trash ta me, Tom. What do ya think?"

"I think it's time we got a bit 'green' if ya catch my drift. A little 'reduce', 'reuse', 'recycle', if ya know what I'm saying," Tommy replied.

Andy nodded along at first until he realized he didn't know what Tommy was saying, and Jason watched as that idiotic 'lost' expression crawled over his face, causing Tommy to roll his eyes.

"Alright, Todd, here's the deal. We've got a job for ya, we'll even let you use a shower first and get all prettied up for it. Afterward, we'll buy you lunch, now how's that sound?" Jason already knew that whatever these two had planned, it was going to be illegal. He also knew that he wasn't really ready to die of starvation yet either. Being a criminal was better than being a corpse.

"Deal."

* * *

Despite knowing the shower was only the precursor to what was already a bad deal, Jason couldn't help but feel relieved to finally get all that grime off of himself. Whatever Tommy needs him to do, it was obviously a big ask if they were going to pamper him first before asking. Then again, his stench might have just been another reason and neither of the other two wanted to deal with his reek, even for a small job.

Either way, Jason had to tear himself away from the shower and dry himself off. He noticed that Andy had lent him a set of clothes, which was a nicer gesture than he ever gave the other boy credit for. He could tell it was Andy's because Tommy was a little shorter than Jason, and Andy a bit taller, since these clothes drowned him in every direction, he knew it was Grande to thank for them. At least they were clean.

Once out, Jason found the other two on Andy's couch, drinking beer and smoking despite being 13 at the oldest.

"There he is! Looking like your ol' self again, Todd!" Tommy called out in cheer. "Come, sit, have a drink!"

"I'd rather a drink of water, actually," Jason put a hand up to decline the beer.

"Come on, now, think you're too good ta drink?" Tommy asked with a sneer.

"I haven't had clean water in almost half a year," Jason explained, "Besides, I don't want to get used ta having something 'round I can't keep 'round, if ya catch me."

"Hey, yeah, I get ya," Tommy nodded, placated by the excuse. He then batted Andy on the arm, "Got get our friend here a cup o' water." Andy frowned for a second before faking a smile once again.

"Sure thing boss." Whether it was because he was being told what to do, or because he didn't want to do favors for Jason, Jason didn't know, but he suddenly didn't feel like thanking Andy for lending him clothes anymore.

"Come sit here while ya wait. Here, a bag of nuts, bet you're starving, ain't ya." Jason hated Tommy's tone, but he couldn't help the speed that he began to rip open and devour the snack. He was desperate, they knew this, whatever it was they wanted, it was a really big ask. Jason could hear Tommy's smirk, he refused to look up and see it. A cup of fresh tap water came into his line of sight and Jason snatched at it and gulped it down.

"Jesus. Slow down, I don't want to have ta get up already just to get ya a refill," Andy grumbled.

"Yeah, besides, we should probably start talking business. Here," Tommy handed Jason a cigarette. Not really knowing any good excuse to decline on the cancer stick, Jason accepted it and let Tommy light it for him. It wasn't like he had to actually smoke it, just hold it in his lips and take drags into his mouth. That should be convincing enough, right?

"So, if you're helping me, you're wanting something big, Tommy. What is it?" Jason asked, puffing the smoke out as soon as he opened his mouth to speak. Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette, holding it, before blowing it out both his mouth and nose.

"I got a job from Uncle Mac," Tommy started, "It's a three-man task and if we get caught it's a bit more than just time in juvie. But if we succeed, then we're talking big bucks, man. I can't think of anyone better for my third than the son of good ol' Willis Todd himself. You need the money, you have the know-how, and if you _did_ get caught, your ol' man has been running connections in the pin for the past couple o' years enough, sticking ta him should keep you pretty cozy until you're out 'gain."

"Not that you're our first choice, mind ya," Andy stepped in, causing Tommy to nod.

"Well, he's right, we tried asking Donny first, but he's doing something in the bowery that day, next is you, and then if you're stupid enough ta just decline for really no good reason but suicide, then we'll just move down ta Mark," Tommy added. So whatever they were going to ask him, there was no negotiating a better deal. After he did this for them, he was going to get his cut and not a cent more. In fact, he wouldn't put it past them to short change him pretty heavily due to his desperate situation keeping him from making a stink about it.

"Alright, alright, I get the picture. What do ya want already?" Jason asked, pulling the cig from his lips so it wouldn't fall and burn him.

"Well, Uncle Mac's got a task from Penguin himself. He needs ta lure Batman into a trap the big waddle is having set up. But while he and his guys keep the big bat's attention, we need ta keep that sidekick o' his busy and out of the way," Tommy explained. Jason froze. He knew what this meant. Through the past couple of years, hearing news about the replacement, his wins and his failures, it had been one of the few things to keep Jay going. After seeing some better images of the kid, he couldn't be any older than Jason was, it was easy to keep telling himself that if Nightling could survive being attacked nightly by big baddies, then Jason could survive the streets. Taking this job would put him right on the opposite side of his idol. Turning down this job would lead to starvation, at _best_.

Jason put the cigarette back to his lips and took a slow drag. He felt himself shake. He couldn't say no. He shouldn't say yes. He wanted to go home. He was homeless.

Sighing his defeat, Jason flicked his ashes into the tray on the table.

"What time do ya need me and where?"

* * *

Jason was digging through some trash out of a giant bin. The metal bat stashed there earlier by Andy was right up against the wall, easy to grab once he got the signal. Until then, he was just to keep doing what he had become so practiced at for the past half a year. Dumpster diving. Jason wanted to say he was at war with himself, but that wasn't quite true. He knew the facts as they laid out before him. He knew his options. He knew this was going to play out in one of two ways.

Way one; Nightling is every bit of a badass as the papers make him sound and he'll have them beaten, cuffed, and on their way to jail in no time flat. Jason will see his dad again, get three hots and a cot until he's released, and by then he might be old enough to get a job at some grocery store or something.

Way two; Nightling is having a really bad night and somehow doesn't manage to beat them. Then Jason has to deal with being one of those guys that brought a hero to a mad man to be tortured and killed. He'll get his cut of the reward, try to make it last before he gets desperate again, and then comes crawling back to Tommy to see if there's any more work. Slowly building a reputation among the local criminals and being used as a hired henchman for the rest of his life with no way out but a bullet, because by the time he has enough financial stability and is old enough to work, he'll have learned too much for them to let him live.

Really, Jason's best bet was to get arrested now and be able to blame it on his unlucky youth when a pitying store clerk asks him why he was sent to jail.

Thus Jason had to come up with a new plan. How to make sure that Nightling wins, and Tommy and Andy don't think that Jason threw the fight? This was of course only an actual worry if something was going on with Nightling and the replacement was having a bad night for some reason.

Finally, Jason heard the click of a gun's safety being disengaged behind him.

"Hands in the air!" Andy shouted. Jason froze and raised his hands as he ducked his head.

"Please! I ain't got any money!" Jason cried out his line.

"Don't give me that crap! Turn out your pockets! Now!" Andy screamed. It was too loud, he was being too obvious. Jason scowled.

"Please, I don't have anything!" He repeated. He hated this part of their 'script'. It got redundant and repetitious. But it was Tommy's script, and Tommy was in charge. It was Jason's job to sell it. And the only reason a homeless guy would keep repeating himself as he was supposed to, was if he was already outright panicking.

"You're going ta turn out those pockets and give me everything or else!" Andy cocked the gun for show.

"Oh God! Oh dear God, please! I don't know what you want from me! I don't have anything!" Jason ramped up the energy of his pleads a bit more than was written.

"Calm down! Er, just give me your money now!" Andy was getting thrown off and was falling off-script.

"Or you could put that gun away and stop acting like a big tough guy?" A new voice suggested. Jason glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened. It was the replacement! There in his Nightling outfit. He had stylized it a bit differently than the previous Nightling, but there were the silver cape and domino mask, the striking 'N' across his chest, everything. Jason was so in awe by the arrival of his hero that he forgot his next line. Thankfully, it seemed that Andy forgot as well, cause he went straight to shooting at the masked hero.

Nightling ducked down and swooped closer to Andy enough to disarm him and flip him over his back. Andy fell with a groan and a loss of air. Jason quickly grabbed his bat and brought it down on Nightling's back. Nightling hadn't been paying him any mind at that moment and didn't realize until a second too late. After getting hit once Nightling growled out the pain before seeming to decide he didn't like Jason after all. Something that made it really hard for Jason to keep swinging. The fact that he knew Tommy was still watching made it impossible to stop. Jason kept swinging like a mad man at the other teen, tears welling up in his eyes the whole time. Nightling kept dodging him, ducking and weaving, and avoiding the bat.

At first, it looked like Nightling was trying to get a good hit in, but there was something up. He wasn't going in for the attack, he was just dodging. Jason's arms finally gave out and he couldn't hold the bat anymore. Not used to the strenuous activity, or even expelling that much energy, his body just started to quit on him. Falling to his hands and knees, Jason couldn't catch his breath. Between the panting and the sobbing, there just wasn't enough oxygen in the world to ease the pain in his chest.

He wasn't paying any attention to what Tommy and Andy did next. As far as the script went, Andy and Jason were to keep Nightling focused on them, while Tommy radioed his uncle and let him know how their bat-sitting was going. Tommy was to then let his uncle know if and when they lost Nightling so that plan 'B' could go into effect. Plan 'B' was really more plan 'A' part 2 as no-one really expected Jason and Andy to keep Nightling there long.

But the plan wasn't going smoothly, and Jason could have sworn that he heard Tommy join the fight at some point. He was too busy hyperventilating to really know. He was going to go to jail, he was going to get stuck in a cement building with his dad and his dad's co-workers. He was going to become just like him someday. Starvation would have been better. What on Earth had he been thinking? He was attacking his hero for Pete's sake! Death would have been better.

"Come on, breathe," Nightling spoke softly from above him, a steadying hand on his back rubbing soothing circles. "Take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds okay? In for three, out for three. Think you can manage it?" Jason tried to comply. It took him a few tries before he could finally control his breathing enough to actually hold the three count as directed.

"Okay, good. Now, can you tell me your name?" Nightling asked gently.

"Wh-why do you want ta know th-th-that?" Jason studdered between sobs.

"I like making new friends," Nightling shrugged.

"I, I tried ta, ta, with the bat, I-"

"I can tell you don't really want to be here, Kid," Nightling pointed out, "I get it. You're in a bad spot, these guys made you an offer you couldn't refuse. You felt you only had two options and figured jail was better than whatever mess you were already in. Am I close?"

Jason sniffed and took another deep breath. "Nail on the he-head actually." He tried to gulp around the lump in his throat, the one that kept making him stutter. "Jason. My name's Jason."

"Well, Jason. Is there anyone taking care of you? Someone you'd like me to call?" Nightling asked.

"No. There's no one. And I'd rather jail than go back ta social services. They keep sending me ta crap places."

"Haha, alright, I promise I won't turn you in; to jail _or_ social services," Nightling swore, "but I want you to promise me something in turn, or deal is off, got it?"

Jason felt his gut twist at the mention of a deal, but a deal with a hero had to be different than a deal with a crook. Still, . . .

"Depends, what do ya want?" Jason narrowed his eyes at Nightling.

"I want you to try going to the rec-center over on Cambridge every now and again. It's free to get in, they have shower stalls in the locker rooms and free soup dinners on the weekends. If you get hurt, try the free clinic over on South. Ask for Leslie Tompkins. She's got a soft spot for runaways. And when you're tired of running, please try giving the system another chance, alright?" Nightling made his deal clear. And to really hammer it home he added, "you're not some 'goon-in-the-making', Jason. A blind person could see you've way too much potential to get stuck in a life like that."

Jason felt his eyes water again. "Alright. Fine! Yeesh! If it'll get ya ta mind your own damn business then fine. I guess I could give your way a shot."

Nightling smiled at him, gave him a pat on the shoulder and started to drag Tommy and Andy's unconscious bodies toward the street corner.

"Oh! Nightling! Ya need ta hurry! Penguin is planning something ta get rid of Batman!" Jason remembered. Nightling froze and his whole body went tense, before he forced himself at ease, quickly cuffed Tommy and Andy to a light-pole and turned to face Jason one last time.

"If _that_'s what he's been setting up for, then I think I know exactly what to do. Thank you, Jason. Now get out of here before the cops come." With that, Nightling shot a grappling hook to a nearby rooftop and flew off into the night.

From that night on, the replacement Nightling became Jason's all-time favorite hero, ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, this was technically Jason and Tim's first-ever encounter. Also kind of explains why Tim can do no wrong in Jason's eyes in this universe.


	19. Bruce Meet Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An iconic meeting told from a new perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Jason - 14

Jason found his rhythm on the streets of Gotham. He would spend a good portion of his time in the library devouring adventures that took him away from reality, then when he got hungry, he'd head out and get some groceries with the money he stole from guys he knew where known hench-men. He had gotten pretty good at sleight of hand and pocket-picking, but his own morals wouldn't let him pick from people just trying to live day-to-day. So why not steal money that was stolen to begin with? Like Robin Hood!

On weekends, he'd go to the rec-center, help out with the dinner rush, volunteer to spoon soup into bowls, get his halfway through, then help wash dishes. Then he'd go take his weekly shower and then run his clothes with a couple of other kids in the laundry room in the basement. He even made some real friends among them, Juan Genero and Sammy Lawrance being the first. Their parents were poor so they were stuck taking weekly showers and waiting for their clothes with Jason. With their mother's permissions, Jason was allowed to do a bit of a clothes swap with them every now and then, so he didn't have to wear the same clothes for the past couple of years, this turned out to be pretty handy as he had shot up in that time and, thankfully, Juan seemed to keep up with him in size.

Jason had also taken to helping out where he could with the local clinic. Leslie Tompkins was a really nice older lady that always seemed to appreciate Jason coming by and offering to sweep floors, take out trash, and other menial tasks. When she asked why he would willingly do their clean up work, he'd reply that he doesn't have any other way to pay for treatment and that he didn't want to be in her debt if he ever needed her help. She just laughed and ruffled up his hair and let him get back to work.

He even found a decent building that had been abandoned by its owners that the city just boarded up and forgot about. Jason knew that he had to be careful squatting there, of course. Word had gone around of a large group of kids that got caught in the abandoned apartment complex down the street. All twelve of them were hauled off by social services and the apartment complex had been bulldozed to keep any future squatters out. So Jason kept his new 'address' a secret, climbing in from the fire escape, which didn't go all the way down to the ground and required a bit of parkour in order to get into.

Jason had a routine, and he figured that so long as he kept his head down, didn't press his luck, didn't get involved in any drama, he might be able to make it last for another couple of years, then he'd be old enough to get a part-time job and make honest money for the first time in his life. For the first time in a long time, things were finally falling into place.

Then Jason started to notice a shift in the pattern.

One of the first things Jay would do in the library would be to check the morning paper for any 'Bat-sighting's. 'Shadowbat' had begun to take to the scene, finally answering Jason's question at where the previous Nightling had gone. Then he'd check on his friend. Well, Nightling said they were friends that night, but he was also trying to help Jason turn his life around. Either way, it was fun calling Nightling his friend and know that Nighlting started it, even if the other kid forgot already. But it was officially five months in, and still no word about him. There were plenty of Shadowbat sightings, more than there ever had been before, even when he _was_ Nightling. But no replacement Nightling.

Frustrated, Jason went back to see when the last time Nightling _had_ been mentioned. It wasn't really uncommon for someone to not show up for a while; injury, private life, somewhere else in the country, or just simply they managed to keep their name out of the paper despite having been apart of something. But Jason was seeing that Nightling had been missing from the news for six months. _Six months_.

His mind trying to go over every possibility, he came up with too many to list. Looking for the last article Nightling had been a part of, Jason couldn't decern anything that could have led to Nightling's disappearance. It didn't help that it was absolutely none of his business to begin with. It wasn't like Jason could go right up to Batman and ask, _'hey, Nightling said he was my friend that one time he was trying to calm me down from an __existential crisis. Do you think you could tell me if he's alright? I'm very worried Mister.'_ Yeah, that'll go over well.

After putting all the articles back where he found them and then leaving the library, Jason made his way to his safe house at the other side of Crime Alley away from the Bowery. He was watching his feet the whole time, a good safety measure to make sure he didn't accidentally see something he shouldn't, so it was only cause he walked right by it that he noticed that O' Bert, the idiot mechanic, left his garage wide open. Bert was at a work table to the side, blackout drunk and passed out, bottle of black spiced rum just to the side of his head. Jason rolled his eyes. If Bert was at least a little nicer, Jason might have felt a need to help the guy out and close up his shop for him. As it was, Jason just muttered 'karma' and kept walking.

He finally got to his alleyway that he used to sneak into his safe house, but saw some idiot parked their car right in the way. A really nice, shiny, black car. The tires looked like all-terrain tread, the head-lights were buffed out to perfect clarity, the car even had spoilers that were custom-designed to raise up in a scalloped pattern, Jason could go on. Whoever was an idiot enough to park this car out _deep_ into crime alley where no-one could see it was either; A) a complete moron who deserved to get his tires jacked, or B) an overconfident crime boss capable of murder that deserved to get his tires jacked.

A closer look at the tires themselves and Jason practically started to drool at the realization of how much he could get for each, even if he did only sell them for base value and got ripped off. That was at least three months of meals _each!_

Taking precaution, Jason pawed up the vehicle to try and set off any alarms it might already have, better to set them off now when he could claim he was just getting a closer looked than when he had the actual tools with him and was in the middle of the dirty deed. When no alarms went off, Jason just balked for a minute. Who on Earth was _this_ dumb? Or maybe, he thought with a smirk, he should be asking who on Earth was this lucky?

Running back to O'Bert's, Jason quickly went to work grabbing the things he'd need. He really only needed two specific tools, really; a tire iron and a cinder-block. Once he had his items in hand, and yet again stood before his prize, Jason got to work. The entire time as he unscrewed the bolts, Jason kept looking over his shoulder, half expecting Black Mask or Penguin to come up to shoot him for what he was doing to their car. Soon the tire was off, a cinder-block in its place, and no sign of the owner.

Jason rolled the tire down back to O'Bert's and hide the tire behind Bert's used tire pile. Bert was such a drunkard that he'd never notice it there, and he wouldn't really notice it when Jason came back for it in the morning. Jason came back to the car to see that the car was still there, and there was still nobody there. Rise and repeat two more times.

Now the trouble that Jason ran into here, was that he stopped worrying about the trouble he was getting himself into. So when he finally got to the last tire, had all the bolts halfway removed, and was about to start taking them all off in order to remove the tire, he couldn't stop himself from shooting to his feet when he heard a man's voice in disbelief give an exasperated "I don't believe it."

Once to his feet, tire-iron in hand, eyes wide, Jason's heart stopped to see the Batman. He glanced at the car again to see all the minor details that _should_ have tipped him off. Really, who in their right mind gets scalloped spoilers if they aren't going for a theme? He then also moved his eyes to the tire-iron in his own hand, realizing the implication of the tool in his hand, Jason unwrapped his fingers from around the metal and let it clamor to the ground. Without moving another muscle, even to lower his arm, Jason's eyes went back to Batman. Batman took a deep breath before walking around the car in order to properly loom over Jason.

"Put them back, now," he growled in a deep, irritated voice. Jason was frozen to the spot for a moment before he slowly nodded and took a step back. Then he realized his golden opportunity.

Planting his feet and steeling himself over, Jason took a deep breath and cleared his throat before forcing himself to glare up at Batman. "On one condition!"

"Your condition is that you will put them back or I will be taking you to the juvenile detention facility by rooftop," Batman's tone didn't let up. Jason's knees almost gave out, but he needed to ask, and he would _never_ have another chance. He just kept repeating in his head '_what would Nightling do? What would Nightling do?_'.

"Fine, take me to juvie, but if you want your tires back, I want to know what happened to my friend!" Jason shouted back. And then he felt like slapping a hand to his mouth cause he most definitely did _not_ mean to call Nightling out as his friend to the Batman!

"Who?" Batman turned his head just slightly as he asked. Jason could have sworn that he saw the lines of the mask move with his confusion. Jason gulped and then began to dig himself a deeper hole.

"N-nightling. We met a while back, he, well, he helped me with some personal stuff, and then he said we was friends, ya see? But now he's been missing for half a year and I'm worried sick," Jason explained.

"And what was this 'personal stuff' that he helped you with?" That tone was definitely suspicious. Jason never let his gaze leave Batman's but his mind was racing. Would telling Batman the whole story be a smart thing? If he told him anything then it would only lead to the fact that Jason had attacked Nightling with a bat the night they met. But it wasn't like Jason _wanted_ to, even Nightling could see that! Would Batman?

One last scrutinizing glance at Bats, and Jason knew the answer would be a strict 'no'.

"That stuffs personal. Between him and me only," Jason grumbled and crossed his arms.

"I didn't realize he had become so chummy with the local street urchin population." Batman crossed his arms and bared down back at him. He was making it very clear what situation this was for Jason. There was no winning. He puts the tires on, Batman is going to take him straight to juvie. He tries to make a run for it, Batman will throw him over his shoulder and jump him over deadly heights between rooftops, all the way to juvie. He stands his ground on this, and he might be able to at least worm _something_ out of Batman before he gets raced straight on to juvie.

Fun fact; when all your options are equally bleak, becoming stupidly brave is usually the only fitting response.

"Maybe you didn't know Nightling as well as you'd like ta think!" Jason shouted, having analyzed the situation and deciding to let himself get properly ticked off at Batman's insult. What Jason wasn't expecting was Batman to actually startle back a step. Not really pausing long enough to really think over what he was saying, Jason kept going. "Nightling was the only person there for me when I was at my lowest. I'm not just talking some simple case of the sad-sack here, I had just lost my parents, I didn't have any place to sleep but the gutter, the only people who would even _look_ at me wanted me to commit crimes with them in favor of food _because they knew I was starving!_ Nightling was my _only_ friend. _Now, where is he?_"

Batman just stared down at him, almost looking slack-jawed even, and Jason could feel the hot tears rolling down his cheeks as his heart pounded so hard in his chest it hurt. He was also breathing pretty hard, having used most of his breath to scream at Batman. Jason was now full-on _glaring_ at Bats, demanding with everything he had and was for the man to answer his question.

Batman came back to himself pretty quickly. He straightened his stance and took a breath before looking back to Jason with a softer look.

"New deal," he began. His tone was also a bit more gentle, causing Jason to blink a couple of times in befuddlement. "Put the tires back on the car, and I'll take you to go see him."

* * *

Jason woke up in a moving car. He was strapped in the passenger seat and for a split second, he panicked. Then everything came back to him. Batman made his 'new deal', Jason led him to where he hid the tires, and then Bats even helped him roll them back to the car where Jason got to work putting them back. He always thought himself a bit of a mechanic, until the few times that Batman had to tell him he was doing something wrong. He never knew that when putting on or taking off a tire that the bolts had to be taken off in a star-shaped order, though he was well aware that all the bolts had to be put on or loosened before they could be tightened or removed.

After the last tire had been secured into place, Jason remembered smelling something weird before everything just kinda, went black. Now that he was waking up in the Batmobile, driving down what looked to be a high tech tunnel with large light panels at the top, Jason glared over to Batman realizing the hero had _knocked him out._

"I'm awake now," he muttered before crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.

"That is good to know," Batman replied with a tone of indifference.

"So I take it ya knocked me out so that I wouldn't know where your 'secret base' is?" Jason asked, staring out the window as if there was anything of interest out there.

"You would be correct."

"And ya didn't think to give a guy a _warning_?" Jason turned back to Batman to see the man's face was still as a statue. Huffing out a large sigh, Jason made a show of falling back and sinking into his seat. When they finally came to a stop, Jason's eyes almost bugged out of his head. They were in an actual cave, with stalactites, and stalagmites, and live bats, and a real waterfall! But on top of all that, the cave was absolutely _filled_ with technology. Jason's eyes wandered all around the cave until it landed on Batman, who apparently left the car already, waking up and talking to some guy wearing an outfit that made him look like a butler or something.

Jason got out of the car and was running up to join them as soon as he realized that he hadn't been locked in. The man Batman had been talking to raised a brow.

"So, this would be Master Nightling's friend then?" The man asked.

"I'm taking him up the West route to go," Batman took an ominous pause here for a sigh, "pay Nightling a visit."

"Very good, Sir, I shall see that your earlier request is fulfilled as you do," the man nodded.

"Wait, so, you're an _actual _butler? You're not just dressed up for some undercover thing?" Jason asked, furrowing his brow.

The man raised his brow again before giving a kind smile and a small bow, "Alfred Pennyworth, at your service, young man. I am indeed a butler, though I try to spend as much of my time assisting the Batman in any way I can between taking care of my own employer. Now then, I don't believe you'll want to keep young Master Nightling waiting any longer. I'll see that the preparations are prepared for your return."

With that, Alfred bowed out and walked away. Before Jason could see where he was going, Batman already had a hand to his shoulder, steering him to a side door. Realizing he was finally going to meet his friend for the first time since that night two years ago, Jason let himself be manhandled. On the other side of the door, a set of stairs led upwards toward three different doors, each one with a digital lock as well as a vault-like mechanism that latched the doors in place. Bats took Jason toward the left one, and more stairs lead beyond the other side of it.

"Geeze, ya don't skip leg day _ever_ 'round this place, _do _ya?" Jason gawked at what had to be a _whole mile _of stairs, . . . or, you know, more than twenty steps.

"It is a good motivator to stay fit," Batman replied off-handedly. Jason gave him a look over his shoulder, only to get a blank stare back.

"Yeah-yeah, yuck it up, Old Man, ya better watch it or I'll be running circles 'round ya in another twenty years," Jason snarked back.

"If it'll take you that long then you might as well save yourself the trouble, Shadowbat could very well be the new Batman by then." Jason froze at that. He then turned back to give Bats a hard look, this time the face he met was visibly dour and the light-hearted mood had vanished.

"Ya can't be _saying_ stuff like that," Jason chastised him. "You'll always be thinking about the end too much to appreciate the time it took ta get there if ya don't lighten up from time ta time."

"I never said I would be dead," Jason could hear the raised eye brown and he pouted.

"Well, I guess ya could've been talking 'bout retirement or something, but it sounded like ya were making a dumb joke 'bout dying," Jason grumbled and continued on his way up.

It was silent for a good part of the way before the silence was broken by Bats. "How long ago has it been since your parents?"

Jason could hear by his tone that Batman wasn't going to press the issue, but he had a reason for asking. And Jason had a determination to not let the past drag him down.

"It's been 'bout four years now. Dad still has 'nother eleven years on his sentence, not even sure where they put mom. Suppose they might have just dumped her in Pauper's field or a mass grave or something. Don't really know what they do with bodies that go unclaimed," Jason shrugged as he kept walking. It took him reaching the top before he realized that Batman had frozen in place. "Hey, unless ya wanna tell me the code, I can't open it myself."

Batman frowned, made the last few steps, and dialed in a quick nine-digit combination. The door swung open to a gate that Batman unlatched from the inside. The two then walked out to what was obviously a cemetery, and Jason was confused. He wondered if maybe Batman had Nightling cleaning gravestones as a chore or a punishment or something, but the sinking feeling in his chest warned him to be ready. When Batman stopped in front of a headstone, Jason gulped and looked at whose it was.

"So, uh, who was 'Timothy Drake-Wayne'?" Jason asked, "Did, uh, he have something ta do with Nightling?" Jason was hoping the answer would be a bit more convoluted than it looked. But Batman hadn't moved, he wasn't saying anything, and from what Jason could tell, he wasn't looking away from the stone. "Oh."

Jason looked back to 'Timothy' and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The heaviness in his gut got worse and he felt his throat close up a little. "How'd he, um, is it okay if I ask how-"

"No." Jason snapped his jaw closed at that. Batman took another breath before he explained. "I'm sorry, but the details are confidential, I've already shown you more than anyone should see."

"Then why let me see it?" Jason was a bit hesitant to ask.

There was a long silence that followed, Jason was almost convinced that he was going to be ignored, but then Batman spoke.

"Nightling, Tim, had many allies during his days. Superboy, Wondergirl, Kid Flash, but when he was in Gotham he was alone. Other than Batgirl, I didn't believe he had a single friend, . . . And then less than a week after his death, a boy from the streets is stealing my tires for ransom, and his ask is to know where his friend had gone." Jason felt a stupid smirk start to stretch his face as his ears began to burn a slight bit. Batman even seemed to have a hint of a smile, or like a shadow of one, or the shadow of wanting one, . . . you know what, Jason just got the feeling that Batman was smirking back, okay? Then Bats continued, "I suppose, it's my way of thanking you, for reminding me that whether Tim made time for them or not, he had plenty of friends in Gotham." Batman put a hand on Jason's shoulder before he began to move away. "I'll give you two a bit of privacy. I imagine you have a lot of catching up to do."

Jason watched Bats walk away to another gravestone, one with two names on it so probably a couple or something, and then he brought his gaze back to Tim.

"Heya, um, guess ya weren't really expecting ta see, or um, hear from me 'gain, I guess," Jason shifted from foot to foot awkwardly before trying again. "Look, I've never done this before. This talking ta someone who can't hear ya thing, it's too much like praying ta me. It's just, I don't know, it's weird. Authors in books, they make it sound so, so, well, I guess what I'm saying is, is I'm sorry if ya _are_ hearing this and it's just making ya cringe that I don't know what I'm doing." Jason took another breath and stood still for a moment as he got his thoughts together.

"Ya know, I never really did get a chance ta thank ya for your advice. It really worked. I hadn't had ta go crawling back ta Tommy or Andy since then. I mean, they _tried_ getting in touch after they got released from juvie, honestly woulda thought we'da gone ta proper jail for what we was trying ta pull, then 'gain, you're kinda a big ol' softy, ain't ya, Nights?" Jason huffed a laugh and then decided to just sit down cross-legged at the foot of the grave. "Anyways, Tommy and Andy tried ta recruit me on some 'revenge plan' they was going ta do ta ya. They were saying that I owed them ta do it, ya know, cause I "ran 'way" on them. Idiots. I told them that I've decided ta starve than ever get mixed up with them 'gain. They got all p***y and stomped off. All bark and no bite, them. Well, I really don't have anything else for ya. I never did 'get tired of running'. I can't go back into the system, I just, I can't. But I promise ta keep my nose clean, well, for the most part, and then when I'm old enough, I'll get a proper job. No more theft, no more running, no more streets." Jason got back on his feet and dusted himself off. "I guess this is 'good-bye' then, Nightling, so, uh, 'bye."

Jason took a single step away from the stone before Batman was already next to him. The hero led Jason back to the gate and down the stairs to the Batcave, where a card table and a chair had been set up with a table cloth and a decent sized dinner. Jason paused and balked at the roast beef dinner. He looked up at Batman who nodded down at him. Jason took that as permission enough and ran over to the table and had barely put his butt in his seat before shoving one of the small baked potato wedges in his mouth.

"Jason, I'm aware that it wouldn't be anything out of the norm for you, however, I'm not in the practice of dropping children off in the middle of Crime Alley in the dead of night. I have asked Alfred to set up the medic bay as a temporary bedroom. It's not exactly a five-star hotel, but it's a warm bed for the night." Batman had moved to the other side of the table from where Jason sat, looking expectant of him, either waiting for Jason to give his approval of the idea or rebel. Jason was torn. Everything he had ever learned on the streets taught him that _nothing_ came for free. On the other hand, who on Earth in their right mind would pass up a chance to stay a night in _the Batcave_?

Jason narrowed his eyes at Batman as if he was still suspicious of the hero's offer, "I suppose when ya put it that way,... You're not just going to turn me in at Juvie first light, are ya?"

"No, Jason, I'm not going to press charges."

"And you're not just going ta drop me off with social services, right?"

"It goes without saying that any responsible adult _should_ do exactly that, however, considering I know a few of the people you've been more or less watched over by while 'on your own', I will make the _one_ and _only_ exception for your case."

Jason took this answer and nodded along. Batman was willing to let Jason just live his life. Jason felt no reason to distrust Batman, if only because even a thin, lumpy hospital bed sounded leagues better than the flattened cardboard box pile he'd been getting shut-eye on for the past couple of years.

"Okay, fine. I'll stay the night," Jason agreed.

Of course, one night became a week, and one week became a full month. Eventually, all pretense went out the door between all three of them (Alfred included) trying to find excuses for Jason to not leave. Identities were revealed, Jason was made Bruce's legal ward, the bedroom right next to Tim's was refurbished and put to use, and Jason was enrolled into a public school.

A month became a year, and a year became a new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might do a 'Bruce's perspective' on this chapter someday, but the reason I didn't was because, unlike the others, it actually worked out better to tell it from Jay's POV. Probably because Jason's a bit more melodramatic and therefore it makes it more fun to write. Also, I liked getting to tell the car-jacking scene from his perspective for once, ya know? I know Bruce might seem a little OOC in this but I actually have very good reasons, and not just 'because I wanted it to work that way' reasons.
> 
> First off, it's only been a week or two since 'Tim OD'ed in Arkham', so Bruce is still pretty shaken up from that. Second, Tim in the comics might have had more friends in Gotham, but don't forget it was usually because Dick would push him to be a bit more social or his own dad and step-mom would push him to be a bit more normal. (even before they knew just how abnormal he really was.) Therefore in this, without someone NOT Bruce or Dami around to encourage him (Steph is the same age as him and doesn't have that kind of wisdom and experience built up yet) Tim just kinda gave up on 'normal'. So Jason showing up claiming to be his friend when Bruce is in the middle of realizing just how badly he messed up with Tim, it's a bit of a reprieve from his own guilt. Third, even comic book Jason, when he was young, had a way of making comic book Bruce lighten up. I really wanted that to stay true in this. I think one of the reasons Jason's death hit Bats so hard in 'Death in the Family' was because Jason was Bruce's sense of humor personified. So this time, Jay gets to live and help Bruce live a little too.


	20. Little Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason might not be 'Titan' material after all... At least the ones that matter accept the new Nightling!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Jason- 14 Tim- 17

Jason, Kori, and Roy were sitting in Jason's 'room' in the Titan's Tower. There had been quite a deal of debate among the older titans on whether Jason _should_ get the room or not. The first generation titans all agreed with Shadowbat that, since Jason was the new Nightling, and the room had been Damian's to begin with, and there was no-one else to use the room, Jason should be moved in. The second generation titans had issues with this plan. These issues included the fact that Jason wasn't even a titan yet, that he hadn't even been Batman's sidekick a week, that he hardly got along with any of the other heroes, and most importantly, _that_ was _Tim's_ room.

Hardly any, if any at all, of the second gen titans were finished mourning the death of their friend. It didn't help that the only four people in the while world who knew what happened, were absolutely refusing to share the story and give Tim's friends the closure they deeply desired. On top of that, despite Time having been missing for half a year, and officially dead for two months, the hero community had only recently been informed of Tim's death for the past two weeks.

In short, half the Titans didn't care for Jason, and the other half openly despised him. What was worse, most of the younger heroes that were Jason's age were following by example. Therefore, Jason had been completely ostracized by the entirety of the Titans before he even had a chance to join. The only two friends he had were the newest Speedy; Roy Harper, and the new alien girl that had just gained asylum on Earth, Starfire; Koriand'r.

Roy was a ranger's son who grew up in an Indian reservation under the care of a medicine chief after his dad passed away. With pale skin and bright red hair, Roy had been an outcast his whole life. It didn't help Roy's life get any easier when he was adopted by Oliver Queen. Queen and his own biological son, Conner Hawke, were having their own form of troubles. In a weird reverse to the few stories Jason was told about Damian's reception to Tim, it was Conner who welcomed Roy to the Arrow family, not Oliver, but Oliver was the one to, rather begrudgingly, take "care" of him. This put Roy in an even tougher spot than Jason. At least Jason had love and support waiting for him back home at Wayne Manor. So, of course the two outcasts gravitated toward each other and became fast friends on site.

As for Kori, all the heroes had been welcoming to her from the start. They tried to help her settle in, find her place, be her new family, but her own experience back on her home planet soured the affection given to her. She avoided the mass groups of happy-go-lucky heroes, unsure how to fit in. That was until Jason showed up. Watching everyone only ever present their backs to him from the very start reminded her too much of how she was made to feel at home. She became his friend the very moment an opportunity presented itself. Suddenly, with everyone feeling she was picking sides in an unspoken battle, the other heroes became a great deal less kind to her as well.

So, here they sat, in Jason's new room, hiding from the other 'heroes', playing a game of Uno and griping about getting stuck at 'day-care' by their mentors. (Not so much in Kori's place, but she was willing to listen all the same.) That's when the intruder alarms suddenly went off.

Frantic, the trio ran out of the room and straight into Superboy, who immediately set on telling them to go back to their rooms and stay out of the way. As soon as the jerk was down the hall and out of sight, the three shared a look before they began to run after him. Just as they got to the floor where the intruder was, the three stopped short to see a young man dressed in the previous Nightling's costume. First thought that any of them had was that this was an impostor, but the way he handled the boa staff in his hands proved him to be exactly what the outfit claimed him to be

Superboy, having been Tim's best friend during the second Nightling's run, stood slack-jawed for a moment until the sight of the many fallen titans at Tim's feet set him in motion. He launched forward, though through the entire fight Superboy tried to talk sense into his friend, to welcome him home, to make it clear that Tim will _always_ be _their_ Nightling. No one would _ever_ take Tim's place on the team, no one _could_. As Superboy spoke, Jason set his jaw and stared at the ground. He understood that Superboy was trying to calm his suddenly 'Not-Dead' friend down, but he also knew there was truth to the words, and that hurt.

"_Shut-Up_!"

Jason's eyes shot up at the sound of Tim's snarl. A flash of green, and suddenly Superboy was on the ground. Not letting up, Tim dropped the kryptonite next to the super before he round-house kicked him in the head knocking Superboy out completely. Tossing the unconscious hero to the side, Tim pointed a finger at Jay.

"You!" Before Tim could take a single step forward, Roy and Kori were shielding him.

"You want _our_ Nightling, you will have to go through us to get to him!" Kori growled, her eyes and hands glowing green as she took a battle ready stance.

"And we won't be going easy on you, Mister, cause this here is the _real_ Nightling, and we'll protect him with our lives!" Roy added, cocking back the arrow on his bow.

"Hey! Since when did _I_ need protecting?" Jason argued.

"Do you want our help or don't you?" Roy argued back.

"Boys!" Kori rolled her eyes and started her attack, throwing star-bolts at Tim left and right, not once letting up on her assault. Roy followed up with his arrows while Jay threw exploding bat-a-rangs. No matter where they hit or how much they sent, Tim ducked and weaved around all of it. Kori and Roy, in both efforts to keep the fight long rang as well as to keep the previous Nightling from getting his hands on the current one, started to edge back toward the door they came. Tim was faster, snatching a throwing knife from Ravenger's unconscious body, and chucking it at Roy. The knife 'missed' Roy, though it sliced right through his bow string, rendering the weapon useless. Jason himself had just ran out of bat-a-rangs and even Kori realized how fruitless a long distance fight had just become.

With another glance to each other, the three lunged for Tim all at once, hoping to take him out by sheer force of numbers. Between Kori's super strength, and Roy and Jason's combat training, it looked for a second that they had him. But then Tim pulled out tear-gas from his belt and threw it to the ground. Kori was on the ground in an instant, clutching at her eyes and trying to clear her throat. A few well placed martial arts moves, and Tim managed to rip Roy's domino mask off his face, exposing the sensitive flesh of his eyes to the chemicals in the air. With them vulnerable, Tim got rid of them in a similar fashion as he did with Superboy. Then he turned back to Jason.

"You." Tim took a step forward, Jason took a step back. When the process repeated once more, Jason's back hit the wall behind him.

"Nightling, please, I wasn't trying ta take you'ha place!" Jason cried out, his accent slipping in his panic. "Don't make me fight ya! It won't end the same as last time!" Unsure how to make good on his threat, Jason simply put his dukes up.

"So, you think you're worthy of being Nightling? That you have what it takes?" Tim, now close enough, asked this with a quick, yet painfully hard, jab of his boa-staff, straight into Jason's gut. Jason fell to his knees, clutching at the soft part of his torso before a gloved hand snatched him by his collar and threw him to the side. The impact of smashing his nose to the floor miraculously didn't break it, but he could feel blood begin to run from his nostril, making breathing even harder.

"You think you could manage to _survive_ out there? When backup fails you? When Batman isn't around to 'save the day'? When you're out numbered and out matched in every way?" Tim stomped over and picked Jason back up, again from his collar, as if to throw him once more. "Are you sure you're _really_ ready to be Nightling?"

Jason looked up into the lensed eyes of his hero, the guy he owed his life to and every good thing in it, and he couldn't see anything. The previous Nightling was dead. Jason's hero was gone. This guy was something else. This something else wasn't going to run Jason off from living up to his predecessor.

"Yes."

Jason expected that to be the 'wrong' answer. For Tim to kill him, or beat him, or _something_. He wasn't expecting to be pulled into a hug. He wasn't expecting Tim to collapse to his knees as he embraced him. And while Tim held him tight, tucking his own head into Jason's shoulder, he heard the last thing he ever thought Tim would say.

"Thank you," Tim muttered into Jason's uniform. "Thank you, Jason, for not letting Nightling die."

Jason didn't get a chance to respond. As soon as he brought his arms up to hug Tim back, he was shoved into the wall so hard, his vision went black.

* * *

When Jason woke up next, he was in his bed at the tower, Wondergirl sat by his bed side, cleaning his wounds.

"You're awake," she muttered as his eyes fluttered open.

"You've noticed," he muttered back. There was an awkward silence as she finished cleaning him up.

"I came in to nearly every one down. Cyborg checked the security cameras to see what happened while back up came to help everyone. Batman explained that Ra's Al Ghul had somehow brought Tim back. He's still looking into it." Jason nodded along as well as his pounding head would allow. "We owe you an apology, Jason. We didn't give you a fair chance. Even Tim seems to have accepted you as the new Nightling. We should have, from the start."

Jason had to blink a bit at that before he understood. Cyborg checked the cameras. Even with no sound, there would be no missing how Tim held him before he knocked him out.

"Can I get a recording of you saying that for future evidence? I want proof this isn't some king of fever dream," Jason wise-cracked.

"Oh-hush," Wondergirl laughed before she stood, and with a smile she added, "I guess a lot of things are going to change around here now. Get some rest. Bats should be by soon to pick you up."

"And Roy and Kori?" Jason asked.

"They're fine. Last I saw them they were in the med-bay getting their eyes flushed out." With that, Wondergirl left the room.

Jason laid there for a moment before a thought came to him; Tim had waited until Supderboy had said those hurtful things about Jay before he pulled out his kryptonite. Kori and Roy were barely hurt at all. Did Tim fight his way in, just so he could make a show of accepting Jason? The thought caused Jason's face to split into a wide grin.

No matter what name he went by in the future, nor whatever 'something else' he had become, Tim Drake-Wayne, the second Nightling of Gotham, would forever be Jason's favorite hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, you guys are all caught up. Can't wait until February 2nd 2020 when I start posting new chapters again! See you guys then!


	21. Bab's Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alt Title: Beyond Blood and Legality
> 
> Barbara is part of the family, and family sticks together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just got over being sick, this was something I hammered out while stuck in bed. (I may or may not be feeling the lack of a certain Red Head in my AU, but there was a reason I put off her introduction. Guess I'm just getting impatient with myself.) Either way, Still on Haitus, just wanted to check in with you guys and let you know I'm still alive. ;)
> 
> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Barbara- 11 Damian- 27

Being sick sucked. It was a fact of life. It doubled when you lived with your Police Commissioner Grandfather who was far from a medic. It didn't help that apparently something went down in Gotham Central that required Jim Gordon's immediate presence, leaving the older man to flounder at who he could call to watch over his sickly granddaughter. Barbara went ahead and tried calling in Stephanie, who then tried to recruit Cass, who tried to tag Jason for the task, who actually gave Tim a call. Tim being the smart one of the family, and the biggest nark of all time, called Alfred.

It wasn't anything against Alfred, really, he made being sick a lot more tolerable and in a greedy little way, almost enjoyable. Who doesn't like having a friend willing to do all sorts of little favors in the soul effort to make you feel better? Barbara had her pillows professionally plumped, the tastest soup for lunch, and a sympathetic ear when Barbara couldn't help but complain about the pains in her chest.

No, the real reason no one wanted to have to be under the care of Alfred Pennyworth when sick, was because while it was nice to have someone willing to take care of them so thoroughly, Alfred tended to go a little bit overboard with it without out the least bit of shame. Babs wasn't bed-ridden sick, it was just a cold that kept her from going to school in fear of her giving it to a classmate. She _could_ easily handle going out tonight as Batgirl, but she wasn't as dumb as the boys and decided that if she was too sick for school, then she was too sick for crime-fighting.

Alfred seemed to decide that 'too sick for school' was also 'too sick for anything'. Babs was allowed to read a book between naps, and momentary stretches whenever she started to cramp up from being in bed all day. These were usually timed for less than a minute as she was 'convalescing' and therefore needed to be in bed as much as possible.

Thankfully, about halfway through the day, Alfred received a call from the grocers that usually dropped off the butler's order on Fridays. Turns out, they were having to go a day early so that they could take Friday off for personal reasons. While Alfred understood, this left him in the same dilemma as Commissioner Gordon. Someone needed to be with Barbara while he had to go to the manor and meet with the grocer in person.

This left Alfred to call in possibly the worst person when it came to taking care of a sick person he could; Bruce.

While many (and that is to say MANY) of those in the superhero community thought of Batman as perfect at everything and anything, everyone (and that _is_ to say EVERYONE) who knew Bruce Wayne knew full well that he really wasn't good at anything. Or perhaps, the best way to put is, while Bruce was the perfect detective and nearly perfect fighter - guy really didn't know the first thing about being a civilian. Downside of having a full-time butler to take care of that part of your life, Barbara supposed.

Considering the long list of favors Bruce really owed Alfred, and the fact that he apparently was one of the only other family members that didn't have anything going on that day, part of being a playboy billionaire, he was the next to take care of Babs. Thus has lead to Barbara overhearing Alfred giving Bruce 'fool-proof' instructions, read 'stupid-proof', on how to care for an invalid.

So for the next couple of agonizing hours, Bruce kept slowly opening Barbara's door to check on her, unsure what to do with himself. At first, Barbara took advantage of, what she thought at the time, was a humorous situation to order The Batman around by disguising her commands as pleading requests; said with big eyes and pouty lips. But pretty soon Barbara was out of ideas on what else she could get Bruce to do, she already was set up with juice, freshly plumped pillows that really didn't actually need it, having gotten Bruce to read her a bit of one of the random books on her shelf awkwardly before Babs pretended to pass out to get him to stop.

All in all, Barbara was torn between feeling awkward and a warm feeling in her chest at the realization that Bruce thought of her just as much part of his family as any of his actual kids. Ultimately, however, it was driving her a bit insane at how hard Bruce was trying to be helpful and the second-hand embarrassment she was starting to get from it all. It was really making her miss her granddad's method of just giving her some cold medicine and Campbell's canned soup and leaving her alone. Finally, she cracked and called Damian.

Damian had been in San Fransico last Barbara heard, but he had been on his way back that morning, meaning he was almost to Gotham by the time she called. He listened to her day with little sympathy but was otherwise understanding. He knew full-well how his father can get around sick kids. Sooner than Barbara thought he could (Damian probably kicked up the speed after her call) Damian showed up to relieve Bruce of babysitting duty.

The best thing about Damian when it came to his method of 'babysitting' was that he really didn't. He was the type to make sure the child in his charge was watered, fed, and not about to get themselves killed (this last one was usually the challenge when it came to his younger siblings. Even Cass had some questionable hobbies.) Since Barbara already had a bottle of Gatorade (courtesy of Bruce), and there was leftover soup in the fridge (courtesy of Alfred), Damian pretty much just kicked Bruce out of the Gordon household and settled himself in the living room with his laptop. Barbara finally was permitted to creep out of her bedroom, no longer coughing with deep breaths, and curled up next to him with her own laptop. The two worked on separate cases wordlessly before Barbara broke the silence.

"You're a really good Big Brother, Damian, thank you." She kept her eyes on her screen, but smiled as she spoke. Damian shifted next to her and draped an arm around her shoulders.

"Whatever you do, don't mention it again," he muttered. She knew he was only half-joking, but the half of him that wasn't was only because he was as easily flustered by emotions as his dad. Even if he would refuse to admit it.

She wasn't sure when she fell asleep after that, but since she woke up in her bed to the sounds of her dad coming home and Damian explaining that he took over babysitting, she realized that meant Damian had moved her to her bed and tucked her in. She smirked. He would probably turn a nice beat red if she ever mentioned this part especially, . . . maybe she could just let it slide this time. She was feeling merciful, after all, her family really came through for her today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Babs is the baby sister that doesn't live with them. (Sorta like how Steph is the big sister that doesn't live with them. lol) Also, sorry this was rushed. Sick brain is not great for writing.
> 
> See you guys again in a couple of months! February is almost here!


	22. Spin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra learns something new about herself by playing a very well known game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Dick-12 Cass-16

* * *

Chapter Twenty-two: Spin

When she came to, she didn't even need to open her eyes to know just how badly she messed up. Blackbat forced herself to keep perfectly still as she evaluated her situation. Her head was still ringing from having been caught in an explosion and kicked in the temple right after. She could feel that her left arm was trapped within some metal bonds, not rope or cuffs, it felt more like a bit of metal encasing her hand from wrist to elbow, similar restraints had been placed on her legs. Strangely, her other arm was perfectly free. It didn't sound like whoever put her here was still working at it, so it was intentional that she had a free arm.

"You weren't quite so still when you were unconscious. Sloppy work giving yourself away." Cass froze. She _knew_ that voice.

Slowly raising her head, realizing in the process that she wasn't not wearing her mask, she opened her eyes to see her own father, David Cain. Cassandra tried to keep her eyes from widening at the sight of him, to lie with her body as best she could. He wasn't her mother, he wasn't as good at reading someone's body as Shiva or Cassandra. But he _was_ good, and he _knew_ her.

"Last time we met, you fought me," Cain reminisced as he leaned back in his chair. There was a small, empty card table between the two of them that he drummed his fingers on as if he was 'nervous'. It was a false tell. The rest of him was too relaxed, much too calm for it to really mean anything. He was mocking her.

"At that time," Cain continued, "You said your first word." He looked up at her. "Or at least, your first word to me."

Cass only looked at him, refusing to say anything. He had that look in his eyes still, the one that settled there after hearing her speak for the first time. Cass hated it because she had no idea what it was. It wasn't hatred, it wasn't anger, wasn't even the opposite. There was no love or indifference. It wasn't curiosity. There was something in David Cain's eye that set there whenever his eyes landed on her and she didn't know what it was.

"You chose your side, little girl," Cain spoke up after a moment, "it's time to see where that decision had taken you."

Cain pulled out a revolver. Cass felt her eyes narrow at the sight of the gun, remembering all the 'games' her father liked to play with her that involved guns, . . . and shooting her with them. Cain made a show of pulling five of the six bullets out, letting her see it before he pulled it back up to an angle where he could spin the chamber and flick it in place quickly so that neither of them knew where that last bullet was. Cass knew what this game was. They've played it before, but not the proper way, Cain would never risk his or Cass' lives needlessly like that. He would have her aim at her shoulder then. Something told her those weren't the rules they would be playing with tonight.

"You're 'new father' will be here shortly. I didn't bother hiding any traces of where we are," Cain said as he used his other hand to pull out a remote with a switch on it. "If he or any of his other 'children' show up before we've finished our game, the bombs lining this room will go off, and I can assure you there will be no 'winner's then."

After that Cain set the revolver down in the middle of the table, handle facing Cass. She was to go first. Her heart was pounding. Why was he doing this? Her eyes went to his face to try and find any clues, the slightest tell. What was he wanting? If he wanted her dead, he could have just shot her while she was unconscious. Why force her to shoot herself in a way that risks his own death too?

Cassandra kept her face still as she slowly reached for the gun. Whatever the outcome of this 'game' she cannot give him a reason to kill any of her family. It wouldn't just be Batman looking for her. Robin was with him tonight. Spoiler and Batgirl were pretty close nearby as well. Shadowbat and Nightling had even been complaining about a slow night on their end. Not to mention, she had just taken a bit of time to check in with RedHood. If he had followed her to continue their conversation- no one could handle losing Tim again. There was no telling _who_ would come for her, but there was no doubt that someone already _was_.

Putting the barrel to her shoulder in a small hope, Cain shook his head and tapped a finger to his temple. Cass let out a frustrated sigh as she moved the gun to place. Suddenly she found it a lot harder to justify to herself what she was doing.

There was one bullet in this gun, if it happened to be the first chamber, then she was dead the moment she pulled the trigger. She felt her heart slamming in her chest, her breathing became harsher, she was starting to shake. Cain raised the switch to her view. Gulping around the lump in her throat, Cass pulled the trigger.

*_*click*_*

Her arm hit the table as it dropped, she was already gasping for air, her hand was shaking, and she couldn't believe that she was still alive. Cain reached across the table and pried the gun from her hand. He locked eyes with her as he leaned back, placed the barrel to his head, and pulled the trigger as if it was just another hit.

*_*click*_*

Just as calmly as he picked it up, Cain sat it back down. It was her turn again. Only four slots left, the bullet could be in any one of them. Why was he so calm about this? Did he know where the bullet was? Was he cheating? Was the game rigged?

Cass looked back to her father and looked deep in his eyes. That look was still there. What _was_ it? Did it have something to do with this?

Dropping all facade, Cass didn't care if he knew how scared she was now. She wanted to go home, to cry in Steph's shoulders the way she had when she first joined the family. She wanted to help Babara train. She wanted to laugh with Jason and Dick, to have a soothing cup of tea with Damian and Alfred, to pet Tim on the top of his head and coax out a smile. She wanted to see her dad. Her 'new' dad, her real dad.

Her eyes landed on the switch in his hand, and then shakingly grabbed the gun again with hers. Is she going to survive this? Did she have any regrets? How is this going to end?

Cass brought the gun back up to her temple. The odds were quickly falling out of her favor. This could be the pull that takes her from those she loves. Cass looked into Cain's eyes again. She took an unsteady breath as tears fell from her eyes.

*_*click*_*

Cass sobbed in relief. She gasped for air pulling the gun from her temple and locking eyes with Cain again. He was unmoved. The gun was still in her hands. There were three slots left. The bullet was in one of them. Cass stared deep into his eyes, and the look that had settled there. Cass felt her breath catch as she realized what the look was. Cain wasn't afraid to die, and he was punishing her because Cassandra was. She didn't use to be, but now she had something, or someone, a lot of someones, to live for. She was terrified to die now and he wanted to see if she was even still able to push past it.

She's proven twice now she could, but the game wasn't over. Unless Cain shot himself with the next pull, Cass still had one more turn afterward. What was the likelihood that the bullet was in the last chamber? Cass didn't like her odds.

Cass was afraid to die. Cain wasn't. There was only one way Cass could make sure to see her family again.

She didn't have any time to think it over. The moment the idea came to her mind, Cass' body moved on its own, and she aimed the gun, . . . at her father's head.

*_*click*_*

*_*click*_*

_*_ _*click**_

Cass froze. Cain smirked. There had been no bullets in the gun the whole time.

"You really are getting sloppy, Little Girl," Cain shook his head as he pulled all six bullets from his pocket. He had slipped the last one out before he spun the chamber and put it with the others using sleight of hand. He never intended to have her kill herself. "But you did well."

That was all he said before he stood from the table, leaving the switch on the table where she could see it. She was a mess, unable to breathe, tears flooding her eyesight, shaking all over, empty gun still in hand. She had tried to kill him. She was completely convinced there was a bullet in the chamber, and she had tried to shoot him with it.

She didn't know how long it took for Batman and Robin to find her. It could have been hours, or it could have only been minutes, she couldn't tell. She tried to apologize to Bruce for what she tried to do, blubbering and sobbing in a way that was completely unlike her usual cool and collected demeanor. This caused Bruce to pull his cowl back so she could see his face, knowing that unspoken words meant so much more to her than anything he could say. He wrapped a protective arm around her as Robin had to pull out a pocket blow-torch to get her arms and legs free from their restraints.

"Home. I. Want. Home," Cass bawled out. She had long since learned to properly connect the words, but just like the younger two of her four brothers, Cass tended to forgo her lessons in times of duress.

"Yes, Cassandra, we'll take you straight home," Bruce assured her. He replaced his cowl, handing her mask back to her, and the three made their way back to the manor.

This was her something to live for, her something to fight for, and now thanks to David Cain, she know knew it was her something to _kill_ for. And she was _not_ thankful for that lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this idea from a video on Youtube by Lanasolas way back in 2010 titled Cassandra Cain/Batgirl - Russian Roulette. Pretty much they took the song 'Russian Roulette' by Rhianna and put it wonderfully to pictures of Cass that fit with the lyrics beautifully. I suggest going to see it, (keeping in mind it is also like, 10yrs old).
> 
> I looked into David Cain's background a bit and I realized some pretty awesome stuff about him. I mean, he himself is not awesome, but I found some fun stuff to put in this. Pretty much, the look in his eyes that Cass didn't understand was that when he looked at her, he saw his reason to live. She learned what it meant to love and be loved in turn when she joined the batfamily, but David Cain held a different kind of love for his daughter, a rueful accidental kind. She's not sure what it is because it's not what she's used to. Anyway, I should stop explaining things to you guys and let you make your own assumptions, shouldn't I? I gotta learn to trust in my audience...


	23. Coffin-Nails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason breaks a rule, a very, very, VERY important rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Dick-11 Cass-15 Jason-16
> 
> Jason-18

Chapter Twenty-three: Coffin Nails

Bruce did not typically snoop through his children's rooms. He trusted them with weapons, hostage situations, crime scene evidence, and dealing with the murderous criminal underground; how could he not trust them with their own possessions? So when he was digging through Jason's things, it was because he was looking specifically for an old retractable bat-a-rang design and he knew Jason had one in his room. He wanted to upgrade the schematics, but since the older models didn't really work out the way he had originally intended, they had all been re-purposed, meaning Jason had the only one left. Of course, Bruce had already asked beforehand to borrow it, and Jason didn't seem to mind. But that was a week ago and Jason never got around to actually handing it over and Bruce was determined to finish this little pet project.

This was one, and only reason, Bruce was in his son's room, rifling through drawers and reaching beneath the bed. Jason's room always seemed to walk the line of neat and total disaster. It was a constant source of irritation for poor Alfred, who would take one look at the bedroom, demand Jason take the day to clean his room, only to witness Jason throw all the close in the hamper and place the books back on the shelf and be done in less than ten minutes. Realizing it never got any worse than that, Alfred had since decided to let the boy keep his room in the way that obviously made him more comfortable. So when Bruce reached under the bed, pulling out shorts, shoes, and a copy of 'Treasure Island', he was slightly surprised when he felt his hand touch a pack of cards. Except, before even pulling it out to see he could tell it was a little too thick, a little too narrow, and the film around it didn't feel right. Retrieving his arm and inspecting the item in his hand, Bruce felt his blood begin to boil.

Downstairs, Jason was reading 'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Fin' with Dick sitting next to him, watching 'Supernatural' on his phone with earplugs, and Cass on the floor putting together a puzzle on the coffee table. The room was quiet and everyone was enjoying each other's company separately. It was one of the nice, rare occasions that they got together with no arguing, no trouble making, and no 'because Alfred said we had to'. The silence was destroyed when Bruce screamed out his middle child's full Christian name.

"JASON PETER WAYNE!"

Jason sat up, book almost toppling to the floor and his heart pounding with the question 'what did I do?' going on in a loop in his head. He stood from the couch and turned to face the stairwell just as Bruce was stomping down, already glaring at him. Jason's heart froze in place, that was the 'Batglare'. Whatever he did, he royally messed up.

Beside him, Cass; who still only really spoke in body language, shot up and took three large steps around Jason to get Dick to back away. Dick had pulled his earbuds out when he heard Bruce over his show, but had been looking around confused and had even opened his mouth to ask what was going on before Cass had grabbed his hand and started to lead him toward the kitchen. Seeing Bruce stomp up to Jason, glare in place, and Jason white as a sheet and frozen in place, Dick was even more confused and way more concerned. Then he saw the carton of cigarettes in Bruce's hand. Yeah, Jason was a dead-man.

When Dick and Cass scurried out of the room and left Jay to his fate, a small part of him wanted to call them out for being traitors, but the look in Bruce's eye held him in place. He felt his lungs in his throat and tears start to well up in his eyes, he suddenly felt like a young child again instead of the teenager he was. Bruce had rules. They were simple rules. Jason just got caught spitting on those rules.

Bruce only waited long enough for Cass to get Dick out of the room before he grabbed Jason by the arm and all but dragged him toward the study. Jason was too scared to fight the tight grip on his arm, memories of Willis Todd breaking his arm when he found Jason sneaking food into his bedroom came flashing back as Bruce's steel grip left no room for a struggle. Bruce wouldn't do something like that for such a small infraction on the rules. But this wasn't food in the bedroom, this was one of Bruce's biggest taboos. No drugs in the house. Jason snuck 'drugs' into Bruce's home. Honestly, Jason always put tobacco on the same 'drug' status as caffeine, could you really call it a drug? To Bruce? Yes, yes it was. And he has always made that explicitly clear.

Bruce led his son to the grandfather clock, put in the code on the clock face and pulled the pendulum, opening the entrance to the Batcave. He then began to descend, his other hand still latched around Jason's arm. Not enough to bruise, but enough to get the point across that Jason _was_ going with him.

A faint memory of when Willis had died and Jason got caught with alcohol. He was still new to being in Wayne Manor, his name was still in the process of getting changed. He had been so sure that Bruce was going to throw him out after that. Bruce had been understanding then. Jason had been in mourning, despite how much he said he didn't care. Bruce might have been Jason's 'dad' as far as the little runaway had been concerned, but he couldn't stop the fact that Willis was his biological father.

That did not feel like the same situation as this one. Bruce was furious, more so than Jason had ever seen him. Logically, Jason knew Bruce wouldn't ever actually hurt him. Emotionally and Mentally, Jason had been programmed to expect it anyway. He felt numb all over, a tear was threatening to run down his face. He wanted to call out to Bruce but he didn't know how to address him in that moment. Would he still be allowed to call him 'Dad' after this? Would it upset Bruce if Jason started calling him by his name? The words begging for mercy stuck in his throat and choked him, causing him to sob quietly as Bruce all but dragged him over to the med-bay and pushed him to sit down on the cot with a look that demanded he not move. Bruce then threw the cigarettes into a small incinerator bin used for particular materials that had to be discarded completely.

"Da- Bru-, S-Sir?" Jason stuttered, not knowing how to address him. Bruce paused for only a moment to assess his son. Jason looked terrified, tears in his eyes in a way they hadn't in years, and he was shaking all over. Bruce felt his own expression soften for a moment, he didn't mean to scare his son this badly. Steeling himself over once again, he finally let Jason know what was about to happen and to give him the lecture of a lifetime.

"Sit still or we'll be spending hours getting a proper x-ray," Bruce grumbled, he purposefully made certain it wasn't a proper growl. Jason blinked up in confusion at him, taking a quick second to dry the tears from his eyes, though they were replaced almost instantly.

"D-Dad?" Jason asked. Good, Jason was at least a little reassured.

"I don't know how long you've been smoking, Jason, but there is only half a pack left of the one I found. I've decided I don't want to know the specifics of how long, because it ends today. But I will be damned if I don't check that you haven't already caused ill-effects to your body with this. You will be submitting to a full physical, right now." Jason was almost due for a new one soon anyway, two birds with one stone, and since Jason always hated physicals it made for a good punishment. So three, three birds with one stone.

"I- I'm sorry, I know your rules, I just, I thought that it was, I mean, I knew it wasn't, but when I was on the street-"

"Jason Wayne, I swear, you have been beating the same excuse to death whenever you're caught doing something you're not supposed to. I'm not having it. You've been in this house now for two, soon to be three, years. You've had your time to adjust. You're sixteen years old Jason, start taking responsibility," Bruce shut down the argument before it began. It really had been a habit of Jason's. Getting a little too rough with his schoolmate? He's used to sparing properly with the other kids on the streets. Said something wildly inappropriate in class? It was okay to say on the streets. Forgetting his table manners at dinner? What good were table manners on the streets? It was time Jason understand that was no longer an excuse that he would be allowed to use.

Jason sat in shamed silence as Bruce worked the x-ray machine, and then followed orders as he was given the full physical that he had been promised. When it was over Jason and Bruce had both calmed down enough that Bruce finally trusted his voice as well as Jason's ability to comprehend the situation.

"Obviously, you're grounded. This has to be the biggest breach of trust I've ever had in this household. Therefore, Nightling will be benched for the next six months-"

"Six!" Jason exclaimed. That was half a year! It had to be the longest he had ever been grounded from crime-fighting. Longest _anyone _had been grounded from crime-fighting before.

"If I can't trust you to not bring this substance into my home, how on Earth do you expect me to trust you out there? On. The. Streets?" Bruce emphasized the words to hit the point home and use Jason's own excuse against him.

"I promise-"

"Promises are useless if there is no trust. This isn't just you sneaking in a puppy or a pornographic magazine, Jason, these could kill you. Can you imagine if Dick or Cass had found them?" Well, really that was hardly a concern. Cass wouldn't really understand what they were or how they were used, nor would she really care. Dick was actually his 'good' kid of the bunch and would have gone straight to Bruce with them and narked on Jason first thing. But he needed to make a point here.

Jason stared at his knees, his hands balled up in fists. Bruce studied him for a moment. He was no longer scared or uncertain. Jason was angry. He was angry at Bruce for his punishment and for pointing out his faults. But more than that he was angry at himself for having those faults, for getting caught, for doing it in the first place, for not reaching out about his problem before it became something to 'get caught' with.

With the physical over with and Jason properly lectured. Bruce made his way back up the stairs, hoping he could trust Jason to at the very least take his punishment seriously and work out his addiction. There were going to be changes made, of course. First being that Jason's room will be spotless from here on out.

* * *

_Two years later, . ._ .

Jason was visiting for a couple of days. He hadn't lived in the manor for little over a year, fulfilling the tradition of moving out shortly after he turned eighteen. He was welcomed home by Alfred, then shortly after a sixteen-year-old Dick, and about a couple hours later his dad Bruce. The visit was actually going well, Jason had left the manor before the tension between him and Bruce had a chance to grow into something that could ruin their relationship like it did with Damian. Jason was smart, and he knew that Bruce was a typical Alpha male type, and he was alright with other males around so long as they didn't get too dominant within Bruce's territory. That was something that went doubly for his own sons. As blasphemous as it may sound to compare Bruce to an animal that doesn't fly and sees with echo-location, Bruce was very much like a lion. King of his pride, proud of his cubs, a great father when it came to connecting with those cubs, but growing distant as the cubs grow up.

The comparison actually made the whole thing easier to swallow when he himself started to get more and more dominant as a maturing male. He remembered all those arguments when he was sixteen and seventeen. He started to question Bruce's decisions instead of following blindly, which is usually the first sign of a young bat 'coming of age', apparently. So Jason decided to go to college in a different city, transferring out of Gotham University, and then said his long goodbyes to his family as they helped him pack his things.

It had been obvious that Bruce didn't really want him to leave, but was well prepared to say good-bye. He must have been feeling it coming for a while now. So Jason leaving wasn't bitter-filled with disagreements and regretful word choices. So when Bruce came around the corner to see him, there wasn't any remorse, no apologies, nothing to sour the happiness of the father/son reunion.

At least not for another hour when Jason excused himself to go outside, walk down the lane, and in plain view of the front room windows, if just a ways away, lit up a cigarette and had a smoke break. Jason swore he could hear his Christian name being shouted on the wind, though it should be impossible to hear from inside the house, and he smirked.

Just because Jason grew up didn't mean he'll ever grow out of being an obnoxious little butt-head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to clear anything up, because I am from Midwestern America and I don't really know if this is an us thing or if it's just a thing. When your Momma call's your Christian name, your ears are already sore from the phantom feeling of her yanking it about once she gets her hands on you, so I don't know if anywhere else calls it that or if they just say 'Full name'. I'm not very religious, but I always felt 'Christian Name', even when someone wasn't Christian, made for a harsher tone to why the name was being called. I also get the feeling that Jason himself isn't very religious in this story, but he still does have some of the habits from when he was a kid, though they've grown more into a satire of religion than any actual faith. (Crossing himself like a priest would when he sees something bad, 'praying' for the patience to not strangle his little brother, calling out to the saints when a plan has gone completely wrong, etc. etc.)
> 
> Also, as to my personal opinion on Bruce's arm grab of Jason, Bruce definitely overreacted. Given he realizes he had overreacted, it was an overreaction none the less. No, I do not agree with underage smoking and I would definitely destroy my voice yelling at my nephew if I ever caught him with them before he was 18. Bruce shouldn't have just grabbed Jason like that, so I would first like to say I do NOT condone child violence like this. (Corporeal punishment such as spankings is a very long topic of discussion for me so if you'd like to know my personal beliefs on this then PM and we can talk. In short, I believe there is a fine line between a swat and a hit. One is corrective action and the other is abuse.)
> 
> Lastly; cigarettes. I personally do not smoke and do not see why anyone would, but I have always been surrounded by people who do. Half my high school smoked and I just couldn't see why. Like, it makes them feel mature? What's the Grown up's excuse? But I know there are people who do smoke and they are aware of the health risks, they bought it legally, and with those two items on board, then I don't have a problem with it so long as it's not in my house or car. My friend Kass is currently trying to quit smoking and I've been wishing her the best of luck.


	24. A Call for Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has a near-death experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barbara - 9  
Tim - 18

Tim leaned heavily against the cold brick wall of the alleyway. Quick puffs of steam came from his mouth as he struggled to catch his breath in the early winter air. His side felt like fire in contrast as he pressed his hands tightly to it, hoping to keep pressure on a bleeding gun wound. One of those muggers back there had gotten a lucky shot, a shot that Tim _had_ dodged when it came out of the gun, but didn't account for the ricochet as the bullet rebounded off a metal pipe and dug itself deep into his ribs. It might not have hit his lungs, as he was still able to breathe normally, but it must have nicked an artery with just how much blood was seeping past his fingers from under his palm.

Tim staggered a few steps more, trying to drag himself along the wall for support, his body both growing heavier and feeling weightless at the same time. Definitely too much blood loss.

As the thought of trying to get back to his bike came to mind, he banished it. The idea of staggering the six blocks that he left it was impossible enough without the added consideration of actually _driving_ the damn thing. To tack onto an already cruddy evening, Tim heard the distant rumble of thunder just before he began to feel the stinging touch of nearly frozen raindrops hitting what little of his skin was vulnerable. It didn't even have the decency to be snow.

Cursing his luck, Tim limped along, not fully sure where he should go or what he should do. He was quickly coming to terms with the fact that he might not survive this, but like hell was he just going to drop down and wait for death. So long as he had some consciousness left, Tim was going to fight for his life.

It was in that moment, Tim saw a dim light coming from salvation. A rusted phonebooth, covered in graffiti and probably protected by the numerous chain smokers in the neighborhood that used the booth to feed their habit in similar weather. With a little struggle, Tim managed to get into the booth and out of the pouring rain just as it turned into a freezing deluge. The wind tried to shove the rain into the booth with the dying vigilante, but Tim was able to just barely force the rusty door of the booth closed, though only partially.

Calling it good enough, Tim leaned back against the dirty glass and took a moment to just relax. This only proved to be a bad idea as his hand on his side also relieved some of the life-saving pressure and he felt another fresh stream of blood spill with his heartbeat, and he felt his head swoon. It was only due to instinct that Tim was able to force his hand back into place, trying to dig through his supplies for a dry bandage. It was futile, he already knew that when he had been shot, but he was getting desperate and hopeful.

Looking up, Tim saw that the booth still had a phone, though he fully suspected that the line to it would have been long since dead, again he decided to try his luck. Forcing himself to his feet, Tim pulled a quarter from his pocket, fumbling only a little due to his bloody hand causing the coin to become slick. The machine still happily accepted the now stained currency and Tim put the speaker to his ear. There was a dial-tone.

Eyes widening slightly at the turn in his luck, Tim quickly punched in the first seven-digit number that came to mind by instinct and listened as it began to ring through. It was after the second ring that Tim's eyes followed the pattern of blood prints from his fingers, finally recognizing the number he just dialed.

"Wayne residence, this is Alfred Pennyworth speaking. I am afraid the master is having dinner with his family and cannot come to the phone at this moment. If you would like, I may pass a message on to him for you?" Alfie spoke in his usual business-like manner that he used when speaking to a stranger that he did not know or have any real opinion of. It made sense, after all, the caller ID would show this as a Gotham number, but an unnamed caller. But it bit into Tim's heart all the same and he felt his knees give out beneath him, causing him to slam into the side of the booth and drop the phone. He let out a loud curse as he tried to right himself, only succeeding in causing his side to flare up with an intense pain that he had until now been blocking out.

Taking a second to get his breathing under control, Tim opened his eyes to see three phones hanging from cords, swinging in sync above his chest. Blinking and refocusing his gaze, the three phones became one blurry one and Tim took it in his hand as he bought it to his ear. As he had hoped, Alfred had not hung up, though he seemed to be both concerned and annoyed. Not entirely convinced that it wasn't a prank call, but not willing to just write it all off as one either.

"Hello? I do not have time to waste, so if you would please tell me what you want so that we may both get on with our evening-"

"Al-" It was all Tim could coak out, the effort of talking causing him to grunt and pant. He needed to readjust if he planned to speak any more than that, he had too much weight on his bad side as was. Tim could hear Alfred calling out to him from the other side of the line distantly as he rearranged himself, sitting more comfortably as he was just barely able to get the phone to reach his head.

"Got shot." Tim wasn't sure what the butler had been saying, but he figured that'd get the point across for the phone call. "Corner of fifteenth and Hash, not looking good."

"Oh dear, I'll get Master Bruce right away-"

"No, Al, I, I don't think that'll make any difference-"

"I believe that you are in no condition to make such calls, young man. You keep pressure on that wound and I will send help. You are to remain right where you are and you are not permitted to give up, do you understand me, Master Tim?" The tone in Alfred's voice was final and Tim let out a mix between a gasp and a laugh.

"Understood, Sir," Tim acknowledged. He heard Alfred set the phone down and then leave the room, he was back before too long and struck up a conversation with Tim as if it was just another Wednesday night. Letting himself lull, only just a little, Alfred told him about Jason trying to train himself to be left-handed, causing multiple incidents in which have lead to numerous bruises and scuffs to himself and their youngest brother Dick, much to young master Dick's annoyance. The two have not stopped arguing about Jason's transgressions only leading to Jason to trying more and more left-handed activities. As if to add another level of disaster to everything, Cass has decided to take neither brother's side while simultaneously taking both brother's sides; giving Jason new ideas to try with his 'training' and pretending to be sympathetic to Dick's plight at having such a horrible older brother by holding him close and patting him on the head.

"Sounds like Cass is trying to become Dick's new favorite," Tim mumbled sleepily. He had officially given up on trying to keep his hand tight on his side, no longer having the strength to staunch the wound. He felt his eyes started to close slower during each blink and found them harder to pry open again. It was getting to the point where he just gave up on that to. Bit by bit he began to disobey Alfred's final order.

Tim leaned his head against the phone as if it was a pillow, listening to Alfred's voice grow both frightened and distant as if he was listening from underwater. Strange, since he was breathing just fine. The pain in his side had gone from unbearable to almost nonexistent as he lost feeling in his body. He was cold all over, deep into his bones, no doubt made worse by the terrible weather.

The rain crashing against the glass grew suddenly deafening and Tim was vaguely aware of someone lifting him up into their arms, pressing him against their chest.

The strong sent of Bruce's favorite cologne hit Tim's nostrils and a feeling of safety washed over Tim almost as hard as the rain as Bruce carried him to his car.

Tim blacked out at that moment, losing all consciousness, letting his foster father take care of him for the first time in years.

* * *

Waking up was not nearly as peaceful of experience as almost dying was the night before.

Head pounding, side-splitting, throat aching, arms and legs cramping up, and lungs on fire; Tim groaned in misery as whatever drugs had kept him sedated wore off.

"Good morning," a familiar voice of a young girl greeted, almost sarcastically.

"Bite me, Barb," Tim grumbled.

"You got shot," the little redhead pointed out.

"You grow more and more observant each time we meet," Tim sighed and cracked open an eye to see the little hacker on her laptop, glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she read through the script of some dark web search, or something, the reflection on her specs wasn't perfect. Not to mention Tim would never admit that the nine-year-old had already surpassed him at literally anything dealing with software and coding. It was a sting to his pride as both the nerd _and_ the second eldest of the family. Despite how he sometimes felt replaced by the young hero-in-training, however, their joined appreciation in technology proved to be how the two ended up bonding in the end.

"You called for help," Barbara stated, folding her laptop closed and giving a level look to the hospitalized young man. Tim frowned and shifted a little in the cot they had laid him in within the medical bay of the cave.

"Yeah? So?" Tim tried to play it nonchalantly as Babs' gaze bored into him. She finally smiled, her eyes filling with relief as she huffed out a sigh.

"Good, I don't want you to die any time soon." With that, Barbara put her laptop on the seat next to her as she leaped over to give Tim a gentle hug. Tim laid there shocked before smiling back and putting a hand to her back. It wasn't how they normally showed they cared, it was a bit too affectionate for their usual relationship, but he could make an exception this once. After a couple of seconds, Barbara pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I better go tell the others. Bruce canceled all his appointments for the day to be here when you woke up."

"Great," Tim groaned from between his teeth. Damian knew better than to think their experience of being trapped under miles of rubble changed their relationship. Bruce wasn't very likely to have the same understanding.

"I would offer to give you a shot of morphine and play distraction to help you sneak out, but I've already been threatened with having my final eval pushed back another year if I try that," Barbara explained, grabbing her laptop before looking up in memory and tacking on, "again."

"You know, I don't think I want to know," Tim waved her off, wincing at the pain in his side from the motion.

"Wise," Barbara smirked before she walked off, leaving the cave, and Tim.

Tim took a deep breath and waited for Bruce with a sense of apprehension. While he waited, he held a mental conversation with himself, weighting the 'pros' and 'cons' of staying and becoming part of the family again.

_'It's not like I'm hit with the same urges as before.'_

_'But there's still that feeling in my gut that twists every time I seem them.'_

_'It's only when I see Bruce and Damian. And it's been getting easier in the past couple of years.'_

_'Exposure isn't going to suddenly give me immunity, they aren't good for me.'_

_'They were pretty good to me the last couple of times I needed them. Maybe it's time to chance it.'_

_'I could get hurt by trusting them again.'_

_'I could heal by learning to trust them again.'_

_'I could end up hurting them.'_

** _"I could kill them all."_ **

Tim shot up in his cot, ignoring the blinding pain in his side at the action. Frantically he scanned the cave around him, looking for who said it. That last sentence was NOT in his head. The really frightening part, though, was it sounded like it came from right next to his ear. Tim could see a vent just a foot or two from that side of the bed and leaned over to it, hoping to catch the rest of the conversation it had to have brought to him. Before he could get close enough, however, Bruce ran down hurrying over to him.

"Tim, are you alright?" He called out, resetting Tim into his cot gently.

"No, wait, yeah, but stop it, that hurts!" Tim spoke hastily, not really following his own line of thought. He didn't want to alert Bruce in case Bruce just chalked it up to Tim 'hearing JJ' again.

"You gave us quite a scare last night," Bruce spoke gently as he sat in Barbara's recently vacated seat. "Did you get a look of who did this to you?"

"Yes, Bruce, I already had them tied up, their knees busted in, and the police called before I even realized that I was hurt." That earned him a look from Bruce, Tim just shrugged it off. It was his own fault for forgetting who he was talking to.

Bruce just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he changed the conversation.

"I hope you realize that I can't condone you leaving until you've healed," Bruce began to explain patiently. Tim was about to argue until he glanced over to the vent. If he was here when whoever it was that wanted to attack everyone made their move, then he'd be able to protect them without having to explain that he 'heard a voice' while recovering from a near-death experience.

"Alright. Fine. But I get to go up to my old room after I'm off the I.V. Deal?" Tim asked, shocking Bruce to the point where the older man's brows nearly met his hairline.

"Deal," Bruce agreed, giving his hand to 'shake on it'. Tim took it and their little pact was made. If things got too intolerable before whoever was making their threat then made their attack, then Tim would just talk to one of the younger kids who didn't know about 'JJ' and let them know what he had heard. Until then, it might be good for him to be around family for a little while.


	25. What She Sees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass and Jason had a rocky start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick - 11 Cass - 14 Jason - 15 Steph - 18 Damian - 23

Chapter Twenty-five: What She Sees

There were six of them standing in the cave as they went over the patrol routes for the night. In some ways, it was 'all six', but from what she could see written on everyone but Dick's face, 'Tim' not being there meant they weren't 'all' there. She agreed a bit with Dick. The one time she ever saw 'Tim' was shortly after she joined the family, which was still less than a year ago. His every mannerism screamed 'does not belong', and 'have to get away'. He very obviously favored Jason, but even then Cass could see it was in the same way a nervous child held a kitten; like he was scared he was going to hurt Jason at any second if he didn't put more distance between them.

Speaking of Jason, Tim wasn't the only family member Cass was having trouble connecting with. Dick seemed ready to connect with everybody, his entire demeanor was ready and open to let her get to know him as much as possible. Damian was wary at first but was impressed with Cass's willingness to turn her back on the league of assassins and learn about justice from their sworn enemy; 'the Batman'. Stephanie was excited to have a little sister, despite being the least qualified to be called 'family', what with hers still very much in her life. But Jason?

Jason did not like her. He hid it as much as he could. He was never mean to her, never said anything about it, and actually went out of his way to do nice things for her to try and help her feel like she belonged. He was trying to force himself, trying to keep her and everyone else from even suspecting how he truly felt. However, she could read it in the small moments between, when he'd forget his act and look at her with distrust and fear. It had nothing to do with her past. When he and Dick were first learning about her from Bruce, Jason seemed all the more ready to be her 'big brother'. Excited, even. But then they were told how Cass was first taught to communicate. At first, Jason seemed to think they meant sign-language when they said 'body-language'. Cass saw it when he finally understood, and that was the problem.

No matter what Jason would say, how he acted, how he held himself, there was always the underlying tones of a boy who felt out of place. Every time he looked at the fancy decore, was pulled to a gala, stuffed into a suit and tie, Cass could see the little street-rat he used to be as if he was always in a constant state of 'acting'. Jason was proud of his 'facade', of getting people to think he was 'tough' and 'cool'. He didn't like Cass, cause he knew she could see just how scared he really was.

So it did not surprise her in the least when his shoulders tensed up in a brief flash of disgust when Bruce paired the two of them to head over to the North End. He quickly covered and flashed a big, warm smile at her. She couldn't reciprocate, his warm smile wasn't real. Behind his eyes she could see the nervousness, the fear. She nodded at him, a sign that she was ready to go. He frowned and then turned to walk to his bike. She followed. A wordless interaction.

The two rode off to the North End, out of the corner of her eye she saw them get passed by Spoiler on her way to the Narrows just beyond them. Steph and Damian were the only two aside from Bruce himself that were allowed to be out on their own, a rule that was created after what had happened to Tim. Nightling and Batgirl then stopped in a designated alleyway where they stashed the bikes, hiding them amongst garbage and refuse to prevent a repeat of Jason's introduction to the family. From there, the two made their way to the roof-tops and started on their rounds.

As they traveled via roof-top, Batgirl swore she could see Nightling glance at her from the corner of his masked eyes. He was wary, as if she was the one he had to worry about attacking him. She still wasn't quite sure how she could change his mind about her, but she was determined to figure it out. Batgirl contemplated this until they heard a man cry out in pain. The two rushed to where they heard the sound and watched as a gang of thugs took turns beating a man who, from his similar attire, was one of their own. Batgirl could read it in their stance and sneers. Revenge, betrayal, anger, satisfaction, and the man on the ground was an understandable mix of pain and regret. He was a traitor, he had been caught, and he was now being punished.

She didn't have time to convey any of this to Nightling, however, as the pre-teen was already on his way down to save the man. She could almost forgive his impetuousness, if not for the fact Nightling's body language spoke of a need to prove himself and less of a need to protect. As he rushed in, it was immediately five on one. Batgirl considered her choice between hanging back and waiting for an opening or jumping down now to prevent any unnecessary harm to either her partner or the traitorous gangster. Deciding on the latter, Batgirl jumped down on top of the goon that was trying to be the first to get a hit in on the boy hero. When she glanced at Nightling, she saw irritation, at her. He didn't want her involved.

Since Cass was trying to show Jason that she was on his side and someone he could trust, she decided to honor his foolish wish, if only halfway. With the five now down to four, they took two each and fought on opposite sides of the alleyway. Batgirl had her two down quickly and efficiently. Nightling was still struggling with his. Batgirl frowned beneath her full face mask. She knew Nightling was much more capable than this, but she could also see a stiffness to his movements that was causing a hindrance to his fighting and evasion. Jason was taking on twice as many hits as he typically would in this situation, and it was entirely due to him over thinking about his moves. He wasn't trusting himself now.

The more Batgirl watched, the more irritated Nightling got; he was not appreciative of her just standing there while he fought. She knew full well that he'd be equally as ungrateful if she stepped in. Furrowing her brow and trying to think about what he could possibly want from her, Batgirl watched one of the goons get a lucky slash in with a knife on Nightling's thigh while he was in mid-kick. That's when Cass decided if he was going to be upset with her, then he can try justifying being upset at her saving him.

It wasn't until she was already launching her attack to get the two that she saw the sense of accomplishment cross Jason's face as he had the two lined up for a double knock out. She got to it first. He went from 'proud' to 'horrified' in a millisecond, and Cass felt dread hit her stomach. She could read it all over him; anger, hurt, betrayal, disgust, defeat. He finally felt like he had proven himself in this fight and she unintentionally stole it from him. Worse yet, she could tell that he believed she did it on purpose.

Cass froze. She didn't know what words to use to explain why she attacked when she did. She didn't know how she could justify her doubt, or how she didn't really doubt him except for tonight. Trying to come up with something to say to try and mollify her new adoptive brother, Cass was left just standing in the alleyway as Jason marched right passed her with a 'good job'. She just stood there, hurt.

Knowing he was heading back for the bikes, Batgirl took the initiative to zip-tie and round up the gang members. She made sure to put the traitor goon separate from the others with no ties. While she could see that he was a guilty party like the others, she had no proof or reason, and so he was more or less 'free to go'. She got back to the bikes where Nightling informed her that he went ahead and called it in. With that, Nightling revved up his bike and took off. Batgirl followed but was instantly confused when she noticed that Nightling was heading back to the cave. It was still early yet, and it wasn't like they needed to take anything back for investigation.

Things cleared up for her a bit when they arrived and Alfred was already there, worried. Jason exited his bike and took off his mask before he began to limp over to the med-bay. Cass frowned. Jason had a cut on his leg, yes, but she had known the members of this family to keep fighting through much worse than something that might need, maybe four stitches, five if Alfred decided to be liberal with the thread. Alfred, on the other hand, seemed both relieved and proud, handling the small wound quickly and carefully as well as letting Cass know that she may go join Steph over by the Narrows for the rest of the night if she wasn't ready yet to retire for the evening.

One last look over to where Jason was refusing to look at her, Cass nodded and turned to leave. Before she so much as took a step, she suddenly had an idea. There was one thing she had never done, something she never considered trying before, but she felt it might be her last option at getting through to Jason. Taking her crazy idea and rolling with it before she could think twice about it, Cass turned back around and launched herself on top of Jason, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Jason stiffened all over, but then started to relax in her hold. Cass buried her face into the crook of his neck as she felt one of his arms come up and hug her back.

"I sorry," she muttered. She was apologizing for taking his win earlier and doubting him, but she figured it might be best not to get too specific about what she was apologizing for.

"No, I'm sorry," he responded. Cass truly had no idea what he was apologizing for. Other than being uncomfortable around her, which is something someone can't really help, Jason had been completely nice and accommodating to her. Still, she could feel it in his body all around her, for once he meant what he said, and she smiled.

Pulling away, Cass shared that smile where he could see it, and she watched as a small, sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth in response. He still wasn't completely okay around her, but this was better. He now knew she was on his side. Nodding in satisfaction, Cass then went back on her way to her bike before heading off to join Spoiler.

At the end of the night, when everyone had made their way back - sans Steph who mostly escorted Cass back to the East Side before splitting off and going straight home - Cass watched Bruce walk over to where Jason was still laying on the cot in the med bay, back propped up. Jason was a play of startling emotions, the gist of what she read from them was that Jason was scared that Bruce would be disappointed in him. Bruce, on the other hand, held himself like a proud father, speaking quietly to Jason as they went over why Jason pulled himself out early. When Jason looked confused about Bruce's affirmation that he was proud, Cass could hear Bruce speaking even clearer than before, making certain Jason heard him.

"Jason, you were able to admit that you got hurt because you were distracted and stuck in your own head. Doing that kept you safe and allowed everyone around you to focus on their tasks without having to split their attention worrying about you. Who knows what could have gone wrong if you didn't have that foresight. What you did showed an incredible amount of maturity and that will be an invaluable asset in the future." Bruce put a hand to Jason's shoulder. "I hope whatever it was that threw you off your game tonight is something you'll be able to get past by tomorrow, but now I know I can trust your judgment on that."

With that, Bruce gave Jason's shoulder a quick squeeze before he went on his way to the showers. Dick ran up to give Jason a quick half-hug around his shoulders, wishing him well, before running after Bruce to also get washed up for bed. Cass made her way to his bedside along with Alfred.

"Master Bruce is right, you know. I much prefer just four stitches and quiet self-reflection to your father and elder brothers' affinity for bringing themselves home in pieces only to go out and do it all again." Alfred smiled at Jason and gave him a wink before he made his way upstairs for the night. Cass just reached over and took his hand.

"Good?" She asked. Jason looked her carefully, up and down, before he sighed and held her hand back.

"I'm, okay." He had paused in thought between the two words as he answered her truthfully. She appreciated it a lot more than if he had just tried lying for the sake of her feelings again. As long as he was willing to be truthful, they had a chance to grow closer. Cass smiled, gave his hand a small squeeze like she watched Bruce do earlier, let his hand go, and went to go get cleaned up and head to bed.

She watched as Jason stood up, stretched out, and made for the stairs. He'll be okay, both physically and emotionally. They both would be.


	26. Trails of a Thespian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A High School production featuring Jason Todd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick- 10 Jason- 15 Tim- 17 Damian- 23

Chapter Twenty-Six: Trials of a Thespian

It was something Damian and Bruce had been threatening him with since the day Jason showed up at the manor. Alfred and Dick even kept adding their two cents, insisting it would be a good idea. Steph and Barbara have even considered going with him to the Local Comunity Theatre so they could all go together, and even Cass wanted to join.

However, despite everyone's insistence that Jason should join the theatre as a side hobby to his crime-fighting, Jason kept insisting that he just didn't have the time nor the interest. He honestly had no idea why everyone was so sure that Jason would be a good actor. Aside from the very, VERY few undercover gigs, Jay had been apart of, not one of them have ever seen him perform. Even then, that was 100% improv, and Jason wasn't entirely sure about his ability to deliver memorized lines in the exact way they had been written for him. So, in the end, Jason always refused any attempt to get him on a stage.

Then Mrs. Peddruzi announced over the PA system of his school, that year Gotham Academy would be preforming 'Hamlet' by the noble bard himself. Jason all but ran to the bulletin board outside of the drama department where Peddruzi was pinning the sign-up sheet. The moment she was out of his way, Jason wrote his name down.

A week later saw Jason in the Drama Classroom watching as more and more girls walked through the door, each grabbing an 'audition sheet' on her way in. Jason frowned and looked at the few guys and wondered how this was going to work. He knew 'Hamlet' by heart, he knew that there were a total of 18 speaking parts, and only two of those parts were female. There were a total of 23 students in the room to audition, and only eleven were boys.

A fun little thought came to his mind of switching the roles and making a complete gender-bend of the play, maybe even leaving the dialogue completely unaltered so that the absurdity of the whole thing isn't lost on even the worst of the uncultured swine. Then again, remembering Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's reintroduction to Hamlet having something to do with getting into 'Lady Luck's pants, it would be pretty hilarious if they were instead two girls and it got turned into a tasteful lesbian joke. He could totally see a few of the girls willingly portraying the two bumbling idiotic ex-friends of Hamlet's as two bimbo groupies instead.

He knew that the Bard himself would love it if not for the fact that he lived in a time when women just weren't even considered for actors, hence why there were so few female roles in so many of his plays and why there would some times be jokes about them having beards (*_coughcough_* Macbeth *_coughcough_*). But if there was one thing that Jason loved about Shakespeare above all else, and something he'd NEVER point out to Damian, was that Willy S. was total low brow humor. Hamlet alone was filled with countless crude jokes made by the titular character himself about- . . .

This is a 'high school' play, isn't? Jason suddenly got nervous, there was no way the teacher wasn't going to end up rewriting a good two-thirds of this whole script to 'keep it clean'.

"Mr. Todd, I suggest you work on memorizing your lines for the audition, you won't be allowed the script during," Mrs. Peddruzi muttered darkly.

"Uh, sure thing, just real quick," Jason got her attention, "how much of this are you planning to 'rework'?"

"I would _never_," Mrs. Peddruzi sneered, placing a hand to her chest as if the very idea hurt her heart. Jason could almost relate, but there were some pretty adult things said, mostly by Hamlet himself. But hey, if the teacher said it was good, then who was he to argue.

"Oh, okay, my bad," Jason 'apologized' and looked down at the paper to see which scene they were auditioning. Of course, he should have seen it coming. Act 3 Scene 1 Line 57, . . . 'To Be Or Not To Be'. Jason wasn't sure how anyone was going to remember any of it before Peddruzi started up the lines for the students to read, Jason wondered if this was her way of testing to see who could actually remember the most the fastest. Luckily for Jay, he had a head start on everyone else. A quick glance through it and he set it down and went back over it in his mind. How many times did he preach this exact speech in his bedroom in Crime Alley in front of the mirror? It was Hamlet's deranged speech about how he wanted to give up on life but was too scared of death to just commit suicide. Jason used to hang on to that speech to get him through when he had nowhere, muttering it as he tried to justify to himself how many pockets he was picking and how many days without food he was suffering. Hamlet lived cause he was too scared to die, Jason lived because he was too stubborn to die.

"Jason Todd, I will not remind you again, these pieces have to be memorized!" Peddruzi growled at him. Jason jumped a little and realized he had been staring ahead of himself lost in memories.

"Sorry, Mrs. Peddruzi, it's just, I _know_ this play," Jason tried to explain to her, "I can go ahead and recite the whole thing if you'd like." He'd hoped she'd be impressed with that, that she'd let him go ahead and go or at least stop getting on his case for not keeping his nose to the paper. She got a constipated look on her face instead as she scrutinized him. Then he remembered that the teachers knew of his time on the streets. She was about to call him a liar. Why would a nobody from the gutter memorize Shakespeare, after all?

"Alright, Mr. Todd. If you know this play so well, then I want Act 2 Scene 2 lines 527 and on," she dared him, crossing her arms. Jason frowned.

"But you only gave us the lines for Act 3-"

"I thought you said you 'knew' this play," she sneered at him.

"I do, I just wanted to be sure you knew you were switching it up on me." Jason didn't like where this was going, but he'll be dam-darned if he was going to let _anybody_ challenge his love of Shakespear, much less the play he connected to the most in the whole world.

Act 2 Scene 2 held one of Hamlet's longest speeches, even longer than that of Act 3. This speech was Hamlet comparing himself to the actor he had just spoken with and felt guilty that the actor could put so much emotion in his character that Hamlet knew full well that the man did not truly feel. He then goes on about how if the actor felt as Hamlet did about his need to avenge his father, surely the actor would drown the audience with his tears. Hamlet then spends the rest of the speech calling himself a coward for not having killed his murderous uncle yet, how it made him a villain to let his father's killer continue to live. There was something in it that spoke to Jason on a deeper level, and he knew that he needed to nail this piece. Even if it was only for his own pride.

Strutting to the front of the classroom in a way he had always imagined Hamlet would, Jason took a deep, though intentionally shaky breath as he began to pace the front of the room nervously.

"Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!" Jason stopped his pacing at one side of the room to address one of his fellow classmates directly. "Is it not monstrous that this player here-" Jason pointed behind himself and to the side at an imaginary actor. "But in fiction, in a _dream_ of passion, could force his soul so to his own conceit?" Jason had moved his pointed finger to his chest to grab at his heart as he spoke. He strutted to the other side to address a different classmate. Putting his hands in front of himself in emphasis. "That from her working all his visage wanned-" Jason threw his hands to the side on the word 'wanned' before bringing them back up slowly to where he looked down at them and back to the student. "Tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect. A broken voice, and his whole function suiting with forms to his conceit? And all for NOTHING-" Jason threw his hands again and stomped off, "For Hecuba!"

"That's enough, Jason," Peddruzi called out. Jason stuttered a moment. He mentally counted the lines he quoted. He was nine lines in. He hadn't even gotten to the good part either. He pouted, he thought he was doing pretty good, there was a couple of students who had started to clap but had stopped when they realized they were the only ones. When Peddruzi didn't say anything else, Jason just went back to his seat and moped. She was the only adult involved in this process. She was the one he needed to impress cause she was the casting director. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that he was going to be one of the four extras.

* * *

Jason accidentally slammed the door as he rushed in through the manor, finding Bruce going over some paperwork with Dick in the living room. Dick had spent the past year insisting that he didn't want to be adopted, he already had a dad. However, they were running into some issues with some details concerning Bruce's guardianship of him. Jason wasn't entirely sure what the troubles were but figured the two could manage whatever problems came up. Putting that on a topic for another day, if it ever got brought up, Jason went to stand in front of them, fidgeting in place.

"Yes, Jason?" Bruce asked from his spot on the couch. Jason lasted a single second longer as he took a deep breath before shouting excitedly.

"I got a part!" He cried out as he jumped up and down. He couldn't control himself. He had been so convinced after how unimpressed Peddruzi had seemed during casting that she'd put him off out of spite alone.

"Which part? Hamlet?" Bruce smiled as he asked.

"Well, no, but that's okay," Jason waved it off. He would have LOVED to be the titular character, but that was hoping for a little too much for him. "But I got the next best part! Horatio! Hamlet's best friend!" Jason could barely breathe he was talking so fast and so loud, quickly going into a deep explanation about how Horatio was the one to serve as the 'straight man to Hamlet's lunacy throughout the play. Bruce listened with a patient smile on his lips, nodding along while Jason rambled. Dick looked at him as though he had grown a second head that only spoke Vulgarian. Whatever, Dickie just didn't understand. This was the best day of his life thus far, and it would only get better as the play continued. "I have to go practice my lines!"

Jason started out the door as Dick called out, "Why do you have to practice? I thought you knew it already?"

Jason was already up the stairs, so he didn't bother to reply. After all, there was a difference to just reciting Shakespear, and _performing_ it. And frick if Jason didn't intend to give a performance of a lifetime!

* * *

When Damian had heard about Jason's play from his father over the phone, he had assumed that it would be something his younger brother would talk about non-stop throughout dinner. Except, when the family sat down for dinner and Richard started grumbling about how he disliked Mathew Crowby from school, there was not a peep from Jason.

"He's just a jerk for 'jerk'-sake, like what's the point in throwing my books on the floor? No one else laughed with him, so it's not like it makes him more popular to pick on me!" Richard kept going before looking over to Jason. "What do you do when bullies start picking on you, Jay?"

"I don't believe it would be wise to look too closely to Jason for advice in this respect, Richard," Damian warned. "The last thing _you_ need is a disciplinary record."

"What do you mean?" Richard asked.

"He means I'ma bad influence an' ya don't wanna end up like me," Jason grumbled from next to him, finally breaking his silence.

"Why not?" Of course, this was just the start of the barrage of questions. One of the things that had been clear to Damian from the start about Richard Grayson, he was an irritatingly direct and persistent child. Damian took a deep breath to keep from snapping at the boy before him. Instead, Damian gave another answer and hoped it would satisfy Richard's curiosity.

"Because Jason's method of dealing with those that bother him at school has, on more than one occasion, lead to me having to stop my day halfway to go pick him up from the principal's office of his school." The end of Damian's answer started to get ground out from between his teeth. "He has only recently been broken of this habit and I would be very disappointed to find that I am to repeat the process over again with you."

It may have come out harsher than he meant because Richard ended up shrinking into his seat. Sighing at himself more than anything, he turned to his other little brother at the table to see how bad the damage was there. Jason hadn't seemed to really care either way, picking at his meatloaf with his fork until it was shredded.

"Are you planning to just play with your food all night?" Damian asked, hoping to spark some other reaction from the boy. He could easily see that there was something bothering Jason, but he also knew that if Jason wanted to talk about something, he hardly ever needed the invitation to do so. Meaning either Jason didn't actually wish to share his troubles at the table, or that he himself wasn't sure what it was that was bothering him.

"Jason, why don't you tell us about the play? I would think you'd want to update Damian all about it." Damian wanted to smack his forehead in his father's stead. Redirection hardly ever worked that way with Jason. Well, it did, but you had to be sly about it because Jason liked to challenge people who he felt were trying to outsmart him. Sure enough, Jason's jaw set, and his breathing went deep in a way that told the eldest that he was trying to keep himself calm. *_Please, no one push this. Please don't ask any more questions._* Of course, his father also noticed this change in his third child's demure, though he came to a different conclusion. "Jason, did something happen with the play?"

Jason threw his fork down on the table and immediately started into a rant that had Damian's ear's ringing from volume alone.

"I hate theater, I hate school, I hate Shakespear, and I hate people!" He cried out. His face was red, though his eyes were dry. "What I didn't mention last time was the fact that the lead characta was going ta be played by none otha than Jerkwad 'Kegs' Kingsly, 'imself! I figured 'whatevea' 'cause ya know, it's 'acting' mean'in that I don't _actually_ have ta like the guy playin' 'Hamlet', I just gotta _pretend_ ta be his best pal. But Kegs had a diff'ent opinion on da matta. So he tells Peddruzi that he could do betta as 'Hamlet' if his actual best friend, Jem, played 'Horatio', which was my role! Jem _had_ been cast as 'Marcellus' which was already a pretty small role. I wanted ta argue, but I'm pretty sure Peddruzi _hates_ me, 'cause she didn't even give it a second's thought before she just took me an' Jem's scripts an' swapped 'em. But then Andy Cantz decided to speak up about wantin' ta have Randi Straits as his partna, cause Andy plays 'Barnardo' an' Randi is his girlfriend. So Peddruzi just switches me an' Randi's scripts. Randi wasn't even really cast! She was the second extra in at least three diff'ent scenes!" Damian just sat there stone-faced, not even having it in him to correct Jason on his annunciation at the moment. Considering what his little brother had just told him, Damian didn't blame him for getting flustered and slipping deep into a Crime Alley accent.

"But you're still going to do it, right?" Richard asked.

"Of course I'ma do it!" Jason glared at him. "Only 'Drama-Queens' and 'Divas' quit a production just because they didn't get the role they wanted. I'm not a 'Diva' and I'm not a quitter. It sucks, but I'm not going to just run with my tail between my legs." Damian nodded in approval, and with his speech going back to proper dictation, Jason seemed to be calming himself back down. Maybe he did just need to get it out? "Besides, in the _very_ unlikely chance something happens to Kegs, I'm his understudy. So, you know, 'the show must go on'."

With that, Jason finally had appetite enough to finish his dinner. The four of them made their way to the cave where Jason, Damian, and their father got in uniforms for the night while Richard jumped onto the computer to man coms. He still wasn't old enough to pass Batman's 'age requirement' to go out yet, though everyone knew that an exception might be made for the boy soon, if only by a year. Just as they had for the past year, the three heroes went out and kept the people of Gotham as safe as they could. However, tonight, Shadowbat had tried to keep an extra eye for a small bit of red in the distance.

Finally giving up on trying to be 'nonchalant' about 'running into' Red Hood, Shadowbat blatantly went deep into the Bowery to see if he could hunt the other man down. After stopping a few crimes; a rape attempt, and a home invasion with a side of B&E, at least a half dozen carjackings - Shadowbat finally came to the conclusion that Red wasn't in town. Probably with the Titan's somewhere.

Grumbling under his breath, Shadowbat ducked into an alley and muttered into the comms. "Shadowbat to 'Hood, you read me?"

There was static for a moment and Shadowbat frowned at his luck before he heard a break in the line.

"What do you want Shadow?" It was irate and grumbled from between teeth, but it was a response and since Shadowbat's reason for calling out to him was personal, he knew he needed to patiently navigate the thin ice he was already on with the other brother.

"Have a minute for a 'private life update' about Nights? Something's going on with him," Shadowbat figured the safest route at the moment would be the more direct one. Aiming the conversation at Jason usually kept Timothy from blocking him out. Sometimes if it was about Cassandra or Richard as well, but Jason was his obvious favorite.

"What is it?" Red Hood's voice became noticeably less hostile. Shadowbat then took the time to explain the events going on with the school play.

"I think he could use a bit of rallying. Maybe if you show up and give him some moral support or even just a promise to go see the play-" There was a click sound and more static. "Hello? Red Hood, you still there? Do you read me? God Dammit!" Shadowbat growled into the empty comm.

* * *

For the next couple of weeks, Jason's mood seemed to depend on how recently he had been to theater practice. He'd either come home seemingly normal, playing with his siblings and causing a ruckus and then other times he'd just be moody and melancholy. Days where it had been really bad, usually because the teacher and some of the other theatre kids would be unfairly harsh to Jason, saw the boy just march up to his room and refuse dinner. Bruce had officially gotten to the point of never letting the boy try for theater again.

At least it never seemed to interfere with his night job. Nightling was as calm and collected as ever, in fact, possibly more so than he had been in a while. It would almost be a relief if it wasn't for the fact Jason could sometimes be heard muttering Hamlet's speeches under his breath at some points.

"Which is not tomb enough and continent to hide the slain? O, from this time forth, my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!" Nightling spoke steadily louder as he beat his way through a street gang.

"What are you even talking about, Kid?" One of the thugs asked from beneath where Nightling had him pinned.

Nightling repeated the last line in a different inflection, "My thoughts be Bloody, or be Nothing worth!" He then looked down at the guy, "Too much on that second one? Not enough? Common, I need some feedback if I'm going to potentially go on stage with it."

Just then another set of three came from behind and forced Nightling to dodge-roll. "I mean, it's not like I actually got the part, but still, gotta be prepared, right?"

By the end of the night, Jason had a few notes to try and some confidence back. Only for it to be dashed again in practice the next day.

It was three days before the production when Jason came home, happy as a clam. In fact, he was so ecstatic, he was bounding through the front door and straight into the family room with the largest grin on his face that any of them had seen in little over a month.

"I'm Hamlet!" He announced proudly.

"I thought you were an extra?" Dick asked confused.

"Kingsly's parents won some sorta 'sweepstakes' or somethin' and they're taking Kegs and going to Hawaii on production weekend! That means they need me, as his understudy, to step in and play the part. Peddruzi's face, when she realized what that meant, was _priceless_! She started to try to find someone, like _anyone_ who knew the lines better than me, but no one did. She was trying to make up stuff about how I wouldn't know the blocking, but I've been paying attention every practice where Kingsly was supposed ta go and how he interacted with the stage. She was so mad and she can't do anything about it aside from call the play off, and she can't do that either!" Jason was laughing hysterically as he explained what had happened to make his change in mood.

"You didn't rig the sweepstakes, did you?" Dick's voice was hesitant as he wasn't sure if he should suspect Jason of such a low move or not.

"I wouldn't even know how," Jason shrugged, "I guess karma just decided to give me a free-be."

* * *

The night of the play, the whole family went to see Jason finally on the stage, where many told him he belonged for so long. And as he did, they could see his bravo puff up to hide how nervous he really was, but they watched confidently as it leveled out and he grew more comfortable in front of the audience. He nailed his every speech and hit every cue. Damian sat between Dick and Cassandra while Bruce, Alfred, Barbara, and her grandfather Jim sat in the row on the other side of his youngest brother.

The young adult was honestly impressed with his little brother's acting, cringing a little for his co-actors who stumbled over their lines and tripped over their feet. Jason was doing such a great job of creating the immersion necessary for the audience, Damian almost jumped a little when Cassandra tapped him on the shoulder and made a minute motion with her hand to point over her shoulder toward the back.

Following her discreet example, Damian slowly drifted his eyes to the standing room of the auditorium. Right by the exit, completely concealed by the shadows and virtually impossible to see, unless one were intentionally looking, stood Timothy. Damian excused himself and kept his way to the back, just in time to watch his wayward sibling duck out of the room.

Once in the hallway, Damian called out to him.

"Thank you. For helping Jason." Timothy stopped walking and only turned his head to look over his shoulder.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I just stopped in to see my little brother on a stage." And with that, Tim kept walking.

Damian shook his head and sighed. If that's how the guy wanted to play it, then fine. At least Damian could always count on him being there for Jay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I would like to thank Chalseha_Wing from Archives Of Our Own for giving me this idea with their comment on the second chapter a long while ago. I've had this one in file for a while but kept reworking it. Also, I fucking love Hamlet and it is my favorite play.


	27. Smooth Operator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten comments before about either Dick would end up with either Kori or Babs, but to be honest, I'm Team Bachelor and Dick isn't a 'settle down' type for me. Sorry guys! Here's look into the future!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Dick - 14, 12, 16, 18 (Sorry it's a little out of order, buuuuuut *shrugs*)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Smooth Operator

Gwen was having the BEST day of her life EVER! And by best, she meant worst. She had already woken up late on her first day of school, forgot to take a shower the night before and couldn't find her deodorant, had bedhead that refused to be tamed and apparently forgot her locker combination where she left all of her school books during the freshmen walkthrough of her new school. To make matters all the better, her three best friends throughout middle school were missing. One moved to Metropolis at the end of last year, one was still on vacation with her family in London after they managed to miss their flight, and the third was home 'sick'. Gwen knew for a fact that Kelly wasn't actually sick, but that didn't stop her friend from ditching out on her for the first day.

So here was Gwen, trying to laser eye her locker open as if she was Supergirl, because there was really no other option available to her.

"Locker troubles?" Oh, and wasn't this perfect, the circus boy from her class was now trying to be friendly with her. Gwen turned to give Dick Grayson the stink-eye only to feel her eyes go wide. She wasn't sure _what_ Grayson had been up to over the summer, but he sure wasn't the scrawny, boney, awkward, little preteen that she last saw at the end of eighth-grade. Grayson was officially _cute_, and with the way he was smiling at her, she wondered if she might be able to 'damsel-in-distress' her way into a date.

"Y-yeah, I forgot my combo. You wouldn't know how to help a girl out, would you?" She asked with a bit of a pouty lip, tucking a blond strand of hair behind her ear. Even on her worse of bad hair days, this had to be enough to get Grayson to blush. The circus boy blinked at her a couple of times like he couldn't believe what he just heard/saw, and there was a small bit of pink that crept across his nose, adorable.

"S-sure! I can get it open for you!" He exclaimed excitedly, proving that as much as he had started to grow into himself (not by too much but Gwen didn't mind short guys), he was still the same hyperactive little performer that managed to 'accidentally' kick the celling in fourth-grade homeroom. Next thing Gwen knew, Grayson was close up to her locker with his ear not quite pressed against it, but near enough she could tell he was trying to listen to the clicks of the combo-lock. She figured he must be trying to mimic some movie with a spy picking locks or something equally stupid, but cute trumped stupid so she let him work. That's when she noticed the serious and focused gaze on his face as he paid close attention to the sounds of the clicking and the turning of the dial. Gwen had never seen Grayson pull a face like that and it instantly had her face flare-up in a massive blush. Right at that moment, Grayson went from 'cute' to 'hot' in her books and she was more determined than ever to make him her boyfriend.

Before Gwen could get a word in about the possibility of needing a math tutor for after school (everyone knew that Dick Grayson was the biggest mathlete in Gotham, his age be forgotten) Gwen watched as he pulled the latch and her locker door swung open. The triumphant look that replaced the focused one made her heart flutter as he looked at her with absolute joy.

"Here ya go, Gwen! See you class, we better hurry before we're late." And just as quickly as he had come, so as quickly as he was gone. Gwen blinked at her open locker, numbly gathered her books, and then turned just in time to see Dick Grayson duck into his class at the end of the hall. Within less than a minute, her little realization that the annoying dweeb turned into a cute nerd finally transformed into an all-out crush. She, was, doomed.

* * *

Jason was still on the outs with the rest of the Titans. Kori and Roy both knew this as well as why. While everyone tried to make it up to him for how they had treated him his first month on the team, Jason was not impressed with how two-faced they were being. One day they're telling him he'll never measure up to what Nightling is, and the next they're giving him compliments over the very things they used as proof over his unworthiness. Eventually, the other Titans just started to leave him alone, realizing that forgiveness and second chances were not synonyms in the current Nightling's book.

Enter in Robin.

Jason had started to bring his younger brother Dick to the tower to shove at people so that he didn't have to talk to the other teen heroes. Boy did the younger hero work his charms. Everyone was already cooing and doting on their new favorite member while Nightling would sit in the background and ignore them. Kori herself soon found time to talk and bond with the new addition to the team. She realized that Robin was not much younger than her and he liked to ask a lot of questions about her homeworld, though knew to back off when Kori's answers would start to become short and clipped. He was a charmer through and through. Soon Kori decided that it was time to make her attraction to the younger hero known.

When Kori next saw the two brothers enter the tower, the Tammeranian strode right up to Robin and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

"Whoa-whoa-WHOA!" Jason cried out and separated the two immediately. "Star, you can't go doing something like that, for a NUMBER of reasons," he lectured. Kori was confused, and so was Dick.

"And why not?" She asked with a frown.

"First off, you can't just go up to someone and kiss them without asking first. That can get you in trouble with consent," Jason started to explain.

"Can I retroactively give her consent?" Dick asked from the other side of his older brother, looking flushed but smiling in a daze.

"Shut-up, you're a baby," Jason glared over his shoulder.

"Am not!" Dick whined.

"That brings me to my next point," Jason ignored him, "he's too young."

"Am _not_!" Dick repeated.

"Yes, you are! You're, what? Twelve?"

"I'm fourteen!"

"Still," Jason glowered, "too young." With that, Jason took Kori gently by her hand and started to lead her away.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked, following him easily anyway.

"To the tower library," Jason answered. "We're going to find a Law-book and read over the topic 'Age-of-Consent'." There was a chuckle in his voice as they walked away, and Kori knew he didn't hold what had happened against her.

The next few hours found Kori glaring at a book full of stupid human rules while Jason finished telling Roy what had happened. Roy was laughing the whole time, and Kori now understood why with a book explaining her misconduct to her.

"Oh, man, who'da thought our sweet Kori wasn't so innocent? Hitting on minors like that," He giggled.

"I've been saying it for years! Starfire's just like everyone else. She's just a little ignorant of how things work and everyone tends to underestimate how much she does know because of it," Jason laughed back.

"And here I thought _we_ were corrupting her," Roy grinned over to her. Kori glowered at him and then back at the book.

"He's only three years my junior, even by this book that's acceptable," she pouted over to Jason. Unsympatheticlly, Jason reached over and pointed to a line that Kori was trying to intentionally ignore. They were in California, meaning that until both parties were above the age of 18, Kori had to keep her hands to herself. She pouted until she realized another point. "All I did was kiss him. I believe there is a difference on your planet between sex and kissing."

Roy whistled low. "She's gotta point there, Jay."

"Did you think about that difference when you kissed him?" Jason tested her, ignoring Roy. Kori pouted at the book again. Jason just patted her on the head as the two boys began to change the subject around her. Four years wasn't _that_ long, right? She could wait it out. And maybe if they kept it innocent enough, they wouldn't even have to wait that long to date, ... right?

Kori sighed, why did humans have to complicate _everything_?

* * *

She had heard the legends, challenged the rumors, and even seen pictures of the myth proven itself. Still, Zatanna Zatara felt she _needed_ to see the truth for herself. So when she heard that her father was going to the Watchtower to speak with Batman and Nightling about a case, Zatanna was quick to talk him into letting her join him. Once there, Zan wasted no time in running up to Nightling and lifting his swooping cape.

"My Dear G-d, it's true!" She gaped. Nightling just laughed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too. So do we go for drinks now or are you just browsing?" He joked.

Zan let go of his cape as she laughed at his joke and started a conversation with Batman's current side-kick. She knew he was the one who used to be 'Robin' because he started around the same time as the previous Nightling, and there can only be one. From what she heard the most previous Nights went on to become the new 'Red Hood' after what had happened to the 'Hood' before him (that being the guy she heard had actually been the second Nightling). She wondered if the Bats knew they were the only hero family with such a weird yet regulated chain of identities? For nearly everyone else, your superhero identity was a reflection of who you were, not exactly the 'one-size fits all' kind of thing they were playing at. But they seemed to make it work somehow.

Except, the current Nightling obviously needed to do _something_ about his costume. He wore it like a disgruntled employee wore their work uniform, not to mention the whole design just looked so bulky on what she suspected was a much more stream-lined frame of a body. Essentially, Nightling needed a new look.

Zatanna and Nightling hit it off from that point as she brought up the idea of a new outfit. He told her how he was throwing ideas around the family and getting feedback.

"I'm thinking of ditching the cape all together," he told her. "I keep kicking it by accident, I'm just not used to it. At least the 'Robin' cape only came down to my thighs."

"Not to mention it'd show off certain 'assets' more readily, right?" Zan snickered. She half expected him to blush or something, but he just got a cocky smirk as he joked back.

"All the better to distract." He gave a wink and suddenly Zatanna was the one blushing. Forget the guy's butt, that smile of his should be _illegal_!

All too fast, Zatara Senior and Batman had finished their discussion, leading the two teenagers in opposite directions.

"Everything alright, Child? You're flushed," Zatara asked his daughter with slight concern.

"I'll be fine, just need to rethink a few kinks is all," Zan responded absentmindedly. The way her father went red was enough to make her smile, even if he did his best not to react in any other way. Nope, she'll never change, and it was time to plot how to get revenge on Nightling.

* * *

Babara was sitting at the computers in the cave, her wheelchair angled so she could watch everyone get ready to go out enviously. She was still coming to terms with her new restrictions, though she still hung on the hope of a full recovery that the doctors kept dangling over her head. PT really was doing Jack-all for her so far, though, so she wasn't sure how much of it was actual hope versus delusion fed by idiot medical professionals. Considering Leslie seemed to agree there might be a chance for her, she had to swallow the insults she wanted to throw. If anyone knew what they were talking about, Leslie was probably it.

Of course, Dick couldn't just leave it alone at that either.

Dick was in a constant state of wanting to show Barbara that she was still as amazing as ever as well as trying to keep her hopes up for a chance at the use of her legs again someday. His most recent attempt had him talking his old circus manager Pop Haley into letting the last of the Flying Grayson's take his dear friend up the trapeze. Haley, of course, made sure they had a sturdy net below.

Afterwards, Dick had tried to pull the old 'Grayson Charm' at the end of their 'not-date', because Barbara kept reminding him they weren't dating, and tried to get Babs to head home with him. She laughed in his face and thanked him for a good time. He pretended to pout but laughed off the rejection the same as every time before. She wasn't sure how well he was actually taking it, she never could 'read through' it. But the pain in _her_ chest only grew sharper each time. She wanted to date him, really she did. But there was no denying Dick had a reputation when it came to relationships, and with hearing some stories from Stephanie about her own relationship troubles, Barbara grew weary of the idea.

As far as she could see, Dick was like a doorway. The door was a 'pull to open' kind, but it was also 'one-way', you couldn't open it from the other side to go back through. Once through, you were through. You could try and go through the doorway as slowly as possible, maybe even try to plant your feet and stay right in that spot, never moving, but the door closes automatically, and you could either exit smoothly on your own or get shoved out with a swat on your rear. Either way, the door would close, you'd be on the other side, and it doesn't open from that side. You can't go back after that. So yes, Barbara was scared to hope that she was different than all the other girls that had hoped they'd be the one the door didn't close on.

Starfire was close, she was almost the one. But when the door slammed on her, Jason refused to speak to Dick for nearly a year.

Dick looked over to her, seeing her staring openly at him, and he started to pose, making her giggle a little. She had helped him redesign his costume a year ago, removing the cape, and the 'N' now looked more like a little 'lifeline' symbol as the two lines on either side gracefully swept up his shoulders and down his arms, ending in little silver stripes down his middle and ring fingers. It screamed 'sex' in a weird way that both dazed and confused many. Dick was nearly oblivious to this fact as he thought it was all about practicality, then again he was a performer at heart, and 'nearly' oblivious was also 'somewhat' aware.

"Nightling," Batman called over to him. Damian looked exactly like his father used to when he wore the suit. "If you're ready to go, then get going, Batgirl and I will be out shortly." Dick pouted over to where Damian and Kate were scowling over at him. It felt strange to see Batgirl scowl, but Kate Kane tended to march to the beat of her own drum, a drum that was genetically linked to the man next to her, however far that gene was stretching.

"Alright, alright, yeesh," Nightling rolled his eyes behind his mask, giving a slight head roll to let them know that's what he did, before he turned on his heel and walked toward his bike.

Barbara sighed and turned back to the computers. If only Dick knew the hearts he broke on the daily, maybe he'd be able to change into someone she wouldn't be so scared to love. Then again, it was just one of those things that made the man who he was, and it wasn't fair of her to wish he'd change at all.


	28. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce, Jason, and Dick are stuck in a charity ball, and someone wants to leave early...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Dick- 10 Jason- 15 Damian- 23

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Distractions

It wasn't unusual for Bruce to make a recommendation for the night's entertainment during Gala's and fancy parties. Jason knew the others were completely unaware of the two's negotiations before the events and what Jason can, and cannot, get away with during some function or another. Things like; he _could_ upturn the punch bowl in the flower bed and use the bowl as a hat, but he _couldn't_ pour the contents on the floor. Small things, little things, unassuming things.

They were things that would make Bruce chuckle and shake his head, flabbergasted by the boy's lack of shame in the current social surroundings. The others would just look on in bewilderment at Jason's gall. Each one of his four (cause Timmy never had to come to these functions dammit) siblings would watch wide-eyed at Jason's antics and then take bets on what his groundings will be from that point on. Bruce would make a big show of lecturing him and punishing him, and then everyone would go home while Bruce apologized for his son's behavior.

And then everyone would suddenly 'forget' the next morning that Jason wasn't supposed to be watching TV, . . .

So, no, Jason was not at all surprised when Bruce leaned down between him and his younger, brother as a particularly annoying looking woman bounced up to Bruce and flipped her bleached hair back over her shoulder, and whispered to them in earnest. "Whatever you have to do, Jay, do it."

"Brucie! It's been too long!" The woman fluttered her eye-lashes and Bruce was sucked into an extremely dull conversation. Jason, on the other hand, was looking as though Christmas had arrived early and his new bed-time was 'never'.

"What was that?" Dick asked, looking at him confused. Jason gave him a considering eye for a second and smirked.

"Come with me," he instructed and lead his baby brother over to the food table. Jason looked over the items and noticed a platter of baguettes at the end. They were meant for someone to rip a piece off and eat it in bits while they drank their wine, but Jason felt like being greedy. Walking over to the tray of long, thin, hard bread loaves, Jason grabbed a whole one by the end and turned mischievously at Dick.

"Uh, Jay, what are you-?"

"My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!" Jason quoted the iconic line just as he jabbed the bread at Dick. Dick dodged and stepped back, looking at Jason like he lost his mind. Jason just repeated his line again. "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father! Prepare to die!"

This time, when Jason swung, Dick just stood there and took it as Jason bopped him on the head with the baguette. He was still trying to give Jason the 'you're a looney' treatment, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth was betraying him. The kid was going to need more practice at keeping a straight face. "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father, prepare to die!"

"Stop saying that!" Dick finally joined in, crying out around his smile. He grabbed a baguette for himself and began to defend himself. And from there, the battle had commonsense.

Bruce was internally screaming at the woman to just shut-up already. But it wouldn't be proper form, and would only lead to future complications. Instead, Bruce watched her with vacant eyes, a fake smile, and with absolutely no interest at all. He was trying not to dart his eyes around the room in hopes of finding someone he can have a 'very important matter' that he 'must speak with them right away'.

Where was Jason with that distraction, already? Had the boy gotten side-tracked? It wasn't like Jason to find something to preoccupy him in a Charity Gala that didn't directly involve himself getting into trouble (and by extension getting Bruce out of the event). But it had been a few agonizing minutes of listening to Britney Wheet drone on about her new yacht and her drawn-out invitation to take him for a ride some time.

Resigning himself to coming up with a way to reject her without causing a fuss, Bruce felt a wave of relief at the sound of glass shattering at the other side of the room. If Alfred asked, though, it was a wave of dread. But he didn't need to know that.

"En Garde!" Dick shouted from behind the food table across the room. Welding a beaten looking baguette. Bruce's eyes went wide, his and Jason's rule was to not bring the other's in on it, but then again, Jason did like breaking rules, . . .

"En Garde, yourself!" Jason shouted, tossing his now completely broken baguette to the side as he blindly groped the table for a new weapon. "I will give you the honor of a quick and painless death!" Jason grabbed a croissant, before realizing his mistake. "But not with that." He tossed it and glanced down to find a long stick of salamis from off the cracker tray. "Ha!"

"I prefer to fight fairly. Aha!" Dick responded, the two clashed their 'swords' together and held there for a moment, having caught the whole room's attention. Bruce was a bit impressed. He knew Jason was quite the little actor, but Dick had only seen that movie recently from what he gathered, and his delivery wasn't terrible. Could use work, but then again, they all did to start with.

"Well, any last words?" Jason sneered.

"I will cut you to ribbons," Dick smirked. It was a favorite part of his in the movie, then again this whole scene was.

"Fool!" Jason pushed away from his little brother and twirled his salamis in the air as if swaying a sword menacingly.

"Such mediocrity," Dick goaded.

"Let your sword do the talking," Jason goaded back.

"I will. It will be loquacious to a fault!" Dick said as he spun his baguette around in his hand, almost too much like a boa staff, but still ended his grip at the end.

"Ha! Take that!" Jason cried out as he jabbed the salamis at his younger brother, who dodged and then parried it with his baguette. He then used his upswing from the parry to then make a down slice right at Jason. Jason moved to the left and hitting the table, making using his left arm awkward and leaving him with only one arm to use to defend from the flurry of hits that Dick was trying to land on him. "You, . . . micing, fencing, twit."

Finally, Jason was able to duck down and, considering Dick jumped up and flipped onto the tables a second after, had tried to swipe his younger brother's feet out from under him.

"You fight like my sister!" Dick teased.

"I've fought your sister. That's a compliment." And there was Jason's favorite line in the movie as a whole. Bruce couldn't help the smile that grew on his face. He really should tone that down before someone thinks that he's encouraging this behavior. Half the party-goers were watching in astonishment of the nerve of these brats, while the other half were discreetly (and in some cases not so discreetly) recording the act onto their phones.

"Braggart!"

"Heathen!"

The two boys continued to shout at each other as they fenced along the food table, stepping into a couple of the snacks laid out along their way. Bruce flinched at that, there was a lot of waste going into this particular display of 'rebellion'. At one point, Jason accidentally stepped on a meat tray and fell. He was able to catch himself well enough that he didn't fall off the table or even drop his 'weapon', but Dick wasn't about to take it easy on him just because his older brother was prone.

"Not the face, not the face." The line could be heard though sounded at if it was under his breath, just another amazing feat of the young actor.

Finally, Dick had snatched Jason's salamis from his hand and held it as well as his baguette in a cross at Jason's throat. The two paused in that position as the on-lookers wondered what was going to come next. Then Dick moved the 'weapons' from his brother's neck and Jason easily got back up to his feet, both turning to face the room of adults.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we've decided it's a draw!" Jason announced while Dick threw the food swords down on the table.

"Thank you all for coming. You've been great. See you soon," Dick added. With that the two jumped off the table, dusting themselves off and complimenting each other. Bruce knew the scene wasn't over.

It was just his cue.

The father put on an expression of unbridled rage at his son's antics as he smoothly walked over to them with large strides. The boys noticed him when he was halfway across the room.

"We should have kept our swords, I think," Jason quoted Dick's line as the younger brother was too busy turning white from head to toe and looking like he was about to cry. "Alright, let's just skip to the running part. Common!"

Jason grabbed his brother's hand and darted for the door as fast as he could, smile firmly in place. As the two boys made their mad dash out of the room, Bruce stopped by John Davenport to say a quick apology and excuse himself from the party.

Just as he came up to the car where the valet had parked it, he could see his sons waiting by it. Or perhaps the proper word would be fighting by it, as Jason currently had Dick in a headlock and a finger in his ear. With how high pitched and distressed the noises Dick was making, Bruce had no doubt that Jason had licked said finger first.

"Jason, let him go," Bruce chided, pressing the unlock button on his keys to let the boys into the vehicle.

"Bruce, I'm really sorry about tonight. It was Jason's idea!" Dick almost had tears in his eyes as he tried to defend himself from whatever punishment was about to befall the two of them.

"Hey! Ya Runt! I can still hear ya!" Jason growled out from the other side of the car, where he was currently on his way to the co-pilot seat.

"It was!" Dick argued.

"Dick," Bruce gathered his youngest child's attention. "It's late, I'll deal with this in the morning. For now, get in the car, okay?"

"Okay," Dick sighed dejectedly as he slid into the car and strapped himself in with his seat belt.

With that, the family was on their way back home and then soon enough parking in the garage. Jason strutted on in, heading to his room where he was probably going to read until he passed out for the night. Dick walked with his eyes to the ground, looking every bit like a man heading towards the gallows. Bruce wondered if it was just the 'baby of the family' trait or if Dick would have been just as adamant about not taking the blame if he was the eldest. Either way, it was a good lesson for Dick, one way or another. If he was going to ground himself for his behavior tonight, then Bruce figured that just meant less work for him.

Damian rounded the corner just in time to see Dick trudge past him miserably. The eldest then looked back to his father, concerned.

"And how was your evening?" He dared ask.

Bruce gave his son a light smile, "Engaging."


	29. Pushing Buttons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass is learning to be a troublemaker just like her family and realizing the bonding power of being just a little mean to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Robin Reversal AU:
> 
> Dick - 10 Jason - 15 Cass - 14

Chapter Twenty-nine: Pushing Buttons

One thing Cass never quite understood about her brothers, was the way that on one day the two of them would go out of their way to do really nice things and sweet gestures for each other, only to then turn around the next day and do everything in their power to make the other miserable. For example, Jason spent a good three hours helping Dick install a special shelf for his stuffed animals so they wouldn't crowd his bed anymore. The two of them then sorted out the animals based on the stories Dick would tell when getting them with Jason even adding in small facts he remembered of their backgrounds that his little brother supplied him with just a year ago. Now three days later, Dick was screaming at Jason from down the hall, red-faced and teary-eyed, because Jason sabotaged the shelves to fall the moment Dick opened his bedroom door that day, . . . Jason's reason? He was bored.

And it wasn't like Dick was a guiltless victim in these fights either. With the way that Dick had reenacted scenes of Jason's favorite action novels with him, only to then turn around and turn the hero into a 'fart monster', to Jason's irritation, and proceed to raspberry in his older brother's face at least five times every minute. This caused Jason to try and deck him and Dick dodging him gleefully until Jason finally got a good hit in. Bruised cheeked and teary-eyed, Dick told on Jason to get his older brother in trouble despite being the one to provoke the violent teenager. Once Jason was suitably punished, being forced to wash the dinner dishes, Dick kept bounding into the room and blowing a raspberry at him every time both adults were absent.

The two would go back and forth and Cass had to wonder why after so many times of being betrayed by the other, they still would end up laughing and playing games or enjoying activities together, knowing that it would only be a matter of time until one was laughing at the others misery. Then one day Cass found herself in possession of a bag of colorful rubber-bands that she had somehow acquired at school.

Jason was sitting on the couch in the living room, reading Little Women while Dick was behind him in a chair watching TikTok videos on his phone. Cass looked at the both of them and couldn't help but notice that neither of them had their guard up, both so absorbed in their chosen entertainment. Her eyes zeroed in on a spot just behind Jason's ear, unprotected and oh-so-sensitive. The bag of rubber-bands weighed heavy in her pocket. She wasn't sure what drew her hand into the pocket, but she felt her fingers fiddling around the colorful bands in a contemplative manner. They were so trusting, especially of her. She didn't know why, really, but she felt that it was a mistake that required punishment.

More watching herself than actually taking an active role in her movements, Cass pulled out a blue rubber-band, stretched it around her pointer finger and thumb, letting the tension grow as she spread the two fingers, before dropping her thumb and then her arm.

"Ow!" Jason slapped a hand to where he was flicked in the ear, turning immediately in his seat to glare daggers at Dick who only just looked up in shock from his phone. Seeing his older brother upset at him, Dick pulled his earphones from his head to try and figure out what just happened. "The hell was that for?"

"What was _what_ for?" Dick asked looking desperately confused. Jason gave him a scrutinizing look, his narrow eyes taking in his phone, the earbuds, and his full hands.

He took a calming breath and huffed, "Nothing", and resettled himself in his spot, lower this time. He would no longer be an easy target, his guard now up and defenses secure.

Cass looked over to Dick who met her eyes with confused ones. He shrugged and went back to his phone, replacing the earbuds and going back to his videos, too easy of a target. Taking a shot at Dick would only confirm herself as the culprit. She did not what to be found out. But she wasn't done. She had to do it again. She looked back to where Jason was seated. Cass could easily shuffle just a little to the left, and she would have a clear shot of his knee. She felt a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

Her hand back in her pocket, Cass controlled her expression and readied another rubber-band, yellow this time. Just as before, launching it from her two fingers and dropping her arm and looking straight at Dick as Jason jumped up from the couch, hand to the location of the hit. He looked at Cass who was looking at Dick.

"Okay, you're dead," he growled. Dick looked back up, confused as ever as Jason launched himself at his younger brother.

"Hey! What did _I_ do?" Dick cried out, only just getting out of the way as Jason landed on the chair. Jason was graceful enough to land with a knee to the seat grabbing the back of the chair with his hands, lifting it as he threw his weight to his other leg, and swinging the whole piece of furniture at the ten-year-old. Dick dodged only to get too close to where Jason's legs were. The teenager then kicked his brother in the side.

"Ow! Quit it! I didn't _do_ anything!" The child whined.

Cass decided to finally give away her game, pulling another rubber-band out, this time aiming the red band with both hands and snapping it at Jason's neck. The older boy froze in shock before looking over to his little sister with a look of betrayal that caused a bubble of glee to surface in Cass' chest. Suddenly a devious smirk grew along her face without her consent as the boys realized what had happened.

"Cass?" Jason asked, his voice small with the weight of her deceit. Dick seemed to suddenly understand what was happening, turning an equally baffled expression to the girl. They watched as she pulled yet another rubber band out and shot it right into Jason's face, nailing him between the eyes. As the second blue band bounced off, Jason seemed to come back to himself glaring at her with all the righteous indignation that he had wrongly aimed at his baby brother. Dick seemed torn between laughing at Jason's pain and being upset that Cass had let Jason think it was his fault at first.

He was forgotten, however, because Jason dropped the chair to run after Cass, who in turn ran out of the living room and up the stairs. Half-way up she turned just long enough to snap a green band at him again. A giggle bursting from her lips as it hit. Jason was stronger than her, and he knew better than to assume she couldn't take a hit. But she was faster than him, meaning it was going to be a while before she had to face the consequences of her actions. This meant she had no real reason to cease her actions.

* * *

Bruce was in his study looking over some paperwork Lucias had sent home with him after he fell asleep in another meeting. His own fault, but still he felt it was a bit harsh. He was having trouble focusing on the dull details of the finance reports when he heard a deafening shatter from the main hall. Shooting to his feet he ran out to see all three of his live-in children frozen around the chandler that had managed to collapse to the ground in the middle of them. Pieces of crystal and glass from the bulbs littered the floor around the ornate hunk of gilded metal.

Looking at all three of the children, they seemed to be standing in similar states of shock; mouths open, eyes wide, bodies tense and straight. Cass's hands were folded over her mouth while Jason's were in fists in front of himself in a defensive manner. Dick was holding the doorway of the living room with white-knuckles, his feet in position telling Bruce that he had only just been leaving that room as the chandler fell. This meant that though he was typically the most likely culprit, this time he was undoubtedly innocent. Since Cass was never in trouble, Bruce sent a look straight for the eldest child in the room.

Jason looked up at him to see the look and balked at the assumption.

"I didn't do that! She did!" He shouted as he jabbed an accusatory finger at his sister.

"And how did Cassandra manage this?" Bruce pursed his lips and raised a brow, lowering his voice an octave to make certain the teen knew he doubted his story.

"She jumped on it to get one of her dumb rubber-bands back!" Jason 'explained'.

"Her rubber-bands,..." Bruce trailed off, he glanced back at the mess on the ground to see there were indeed, no less than thirteen colorful rubber-bands caught within the swirling pattern of the metal. He glanced up to see where the chandler broke off, noting there a couple more somehow wrapped along the now broken chain.

"Cass was shooting Jason with rubber-bands, but Jason thought it was me and hit me with a chair, then she shot him in the face with one and he chased her throughout the house!" Dick narked on both of his older siblings with one breath, getting matching glares from each of them.

"Cass," Bruce turned a bewildered stare to the, usually, well-behaved child. "Care to explain yourself?"

Cass looked over to her adoptive father, then to her two brothers, and then back to the mess on the floor. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times and she just shook her head and shrugged in a confused way that she had no doubt picked up from the two boys in the room. Bruce watched as her eyes steadily grew wetter and redder before a tear slipped down as she tried to find her voice.

"I- I- don't, I-" She looked back around the room as if hoping for someone to rescue her from the awkward position she found herself in. Jason was the one to break the silence.

"Pfft- haha HAHA!" Jason was instantly a fit of snorts and giggles, landing on his knees and bent over as he howled. "She was bored! HAhaha!"

"Jason, this isn't funny, someone could have gotten hurt," Bruce chided.

"Oh come on! We're finally turning Cassie into a real girl!" Jason barked in glee, pointing to his sister again. "She's really becoming one of us now!"

Seeming to suddenly see what Jason found so funny, Dick started to snicker as well before both boys were cackling like hyenas. Cass was so confused that she couldn't bring herself to laugh with them. In fact, she had the distinct impression they were laughing _at_ her at the moment. Curling into herself, Cass started to sniffle and bite at her lip.

Bruce sighed and put a hand to her shoulder, causing the girl to jump slightly. "Cass, go get a broom. You're grounded and I want all the rubber-bands picked up." He then turned to the overly amused boys before clearing his throat. "And since you both seemed to find it so funny, the two of you get to be the ones to take the chandler out to the dumpster." That only calmed the boys' chuckles slightly. They shrugged and began to get to work. Cass went to find a broom and Bruce heaved a sigh at the damage done, wondering how he was going to explain this to Alfred.

* * *

Cass was almost done with her sweeping when she heard Dick shouting complaints from the outside. She walked over to the window to see her brothers wrestling around the metalwork they were supposed to be disposing of. She narrowed her eyes at the memory of them laughing at her. And then she smirked. Oh, how her brothers shall pay, . . .


End file.
